AMERICAN  AUTHORS. 


WILLIAM    CULLED  '  BRYANT. 


AMERICAN  AUTHORS. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 


BY 


DAVID    J.  HILL, 


PROFESSOR  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  AT  LEWISBURG;   AUTHOR 

OF  "ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC  AND  COMPOSITION," 

AND  "SCIENCE  OF  RHETORIC." 


tfj  Portrait  on  Steel. 


NEW  YORK : 
SHELDON    AND    COMPANY. 

1879. 


AMERICAN   AUTHORS: 


ies  of  personal,  ILiterarg,  anti  ^nectjotal 

FOR  POPULAR  READING; 

INCLUDING 

IRVING,  MOTLEY, 

BRYANT,  COOPER, 

POE,  LONGFELLOW, 

HAWTHORNE,  EMERSON, 

PRESCOTT,  WHITTIER, 

AND  OTHERS. 


BY   PROF.   DAVID    J.    HILL, 

OF  LEW1SBURG  UNIVERSITY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "SCIENCE  OF   RHETORIC,"  AND   "ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC 
AND   COMPOSITION." 


lEacfj  Folume  forill  contain  a  &tttl>ilhtt  Htfcentss. 

Price,  attractively  bound  in  cloth,  $1.00. 


This  series  is  designed  to  furnish,  in  a  cheap  and  popular  form, 
a  personal,  literary,  and  anecdotal  biography  of  the  leading 
American  authors  who  have  attained  a  world-wide  celebrity. 
The  series  is  projected  with  the  belief  that  the  American  people 
know  too  little,  and  would  gladly  know  more,  of  those  great 
writers  who  ha'^e  reflected  so,  rau^i  glory  on  this  country  by 
their  literary  labors:  •  I  .' 

Hitherto  the ,  only,  .accessible  information  respecting  these 
writers  has  baen  eithet  slender  sketches  in  biographical  diction 
aries  and  text-books  on  literature,  or' voluminous  and  expensive 
lives  which  only  a  few  can  procure,  or  find  time  to  read. 

The  portraiture  of  these  great  and  successful  men  cannot  fail 
to  arouse  interest  and  stimulate  ambition  in  every  intelligent 
American.  Such  reading  will  be  sure  to  find  commendation  in 
every  household,  as  pure  and  ennobling  in  its  influence. 


COPYRIGHT,  1879,  BY  SHELDON  &  Co. 


PBEFACE. 


A  LTHOUGH  this  little  volume  contains  the  leading 
-£-^-  facts  of  Mr.  Bryant's  life,  it  does  not  pretend  to 
be  a  complete  biography,  such  as  his  family  will  doubt 
less  cause  to  be  written  by  some  one  to  whom  his  pri 
vate  papers  will  be  intrusted  for  that  purpose.  Such 
an  extended  work,  if  it  appears,  will  present  him  as  his 
friends  wish  him  to  be  known  and  thought  of  by 
his  fellow-men.  This  sketch  is  based  upon  an  inde 
pendent,  and,  it  is  hoped,  an  impartial  judgment,  of  the 
man  and  the  writer  as  his  life  and  works  display  him  to 
the  world.  If  the  picture  contains  more  of  light  than 
of  shade,  it  is  because  fact  has  fixed  the  proportion, 
and  fidelity  to  truth  requires  a  faithful  reproduction. 

I  am  under  obligation  to  several  friends  for  important 
information  concerning  the  details  of  the  poet's  life, 
and  to  his  publishers  —  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
Gr.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  and  Houghton  &  Osgood  —  for 
permission  to  make  extracts  from  his  works.  These 
are,  for  the  most  part,  of  an  autobiographical  character  ; 
but  some  have  been  made  to  illustrate  his  prose  style. 
Mr.  Isaac  Henderson,  the  publisher  of  "The  New-York 

242299  5 


PREFACE. 


Evening  Post,"  has  also  granted  permission  to  make 
use  of  the  articles  published  in  that  journal  and  in  the 
memorial  pamphlet  reprinted  from  it. 

The  political  and  journalistic  career  of  Mr.  Bryant 
has  received  less  attention  than  the  literary  phase  of  his 
life,  as  being  less  important  to  the  purpose  of  the  series 
to  which  this  volume  belongs.  The  general  design  of 
the  sketch  will  also  explain  the  omission  of  some  par 
ticulars  which  some  readers  may  wish  had  been  admit 
ted  to  these  pages. 

DAVID  J.   HILL. 
UNIVEKSITY  AT  LEWISBUBQ, 
February,  1879. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER    I. 

CHILDHOOD. 

X794-I807. 

The  Impressiveness  of  Bryant's  Life.  — Characteristics  of 
his  Life.  — Ancestry. —Dr.  Peter  Bryant.  — The  Poet's 
Mother.  — The  Selection  of  his  Name.  —A  Course  in  Hy 
dropathy.  —  Scenes  of  the  Poet's  Birthplace.  —  The  Origin 
of  his  Inspirations.  —  His  Lifelong  Delight  in  the  Scenes  of 
his  Childhood.  —A  Rigid  Grandfather.  —  The  Boys  of  the 
Poet's  Youth.  —  Early  School-Days.  —  The  Key  of  his  Life  .  17 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE   BOY-POET. 

1807-1815. 

Poetic  Aptitudes.  — Earliest  Verses.  —  Examples  of  Poetic 
Precocity.  —  The  Poet's  own  Opinion  of  Juvenile  Verses. 
—  Paternal  Help.  — First  Printed  Verses.  —  Character  of 
these  Early  Efforts.  — "  The  Embargo."— A  Certificate 
of  Authorship.  —  Other  Poems.  —  Classical  Studies.  —  Bot 
any.— Books  and  Beading.  —  Country  Sports.  — At  Wil 
liams  College.  —  Studies  at  Home.  — "The  Genius  of 
Columbia."  —  "  Ode  for  the  Fourth  of  July."  —  "  Thana- 
topsis." — A  New  Development  in  Poetry  ....  30 


O  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 
TEN   YEARS   AT    THE   BAB. 

1815-1825. 

PAGE 

Legal  Studies.— Admitted  to  the  Bar.  —  Practice  at  Plain- 
field.  —  The  Lines  "  To  a  Waterfowl."  — Removal  to 
Great  Barrington. —  The  Verses  on  "Green  River."  — 
Justice  Bryant.  —  A  Peculiar  Ceremony.  —  A  Pen-Picture 
of  the  Poet.  —  Love  and  Love-Poetry.  —  The  Proclamation 
of  the  Banns.  —  Marriage.  —  Poems  to  Mrs.  Bryant.— 
"The  Ages."— A  Collection  of  Poems. —  A  Criticism.— 
Hellenic  Poems.— Verses  on  Indian  Subjects. —Friends 
in  New  York.  — A  Position  offered.— Removal  to  New 
York  .  .~  . 51 

CHAPTER  IV. 
LITERARY    LIFE   IN    NEW   YORK. 

1825-1834. 

New  York  in  1825.  — Gulian  C.  Verplanck.  —  Fitz-Greene 
Halleck.  —  James  A.  Hillhouse.  —  The  Club.  —  "  The  New- 
York  Review."— Magazine  Literature  in  1825.  — Bryant 
Assistant  Editor  of  "The  Post."  —  "  The  Croaker  Papers." 

—  Character  of  "The  Post"  as  a  Newspaper.  —  Improve 
ments  in  Journalism.  — William  Coleman.  —  "  The  Talis 
man."  —  Robert  C.  Sands.  —Bryant's  Correspondence  with 
Irving.  —  A  troublesome  Line  of  Poetry.  —  Bryant's  Repu 
tation  in  Great  Britain.  —  A  Notice  by  Christopher  North. 

—  Editor-in-chief  of  "  The  Post."  —  Departure  for  Europe,    62 

CHAPTER  V. 
A   VISIT    TO   EUROPE. 

1834-1836. 

First  Impressions  of  France.  —  A  Race  of  Fiddlers.  —  Nation 
ality  of  Feeling  in  Bryant.  —  Character  of  his  Letters.  — 
Journalistic  Modesty. —A  Ride  through  France,  from 
Paris  to  Chalons.  — A  Voyage  on  the  Saone.  —  In  South 
ern  Gaul. — An  American's  Opinion  of  European  Gov- 


CONTENTS.  9 

PAGE 

ernments.  —  At  Florence.  —  A  Critic  of  Landscapes.  —  A 
Worthless  Passport.  — A  Servant's  Diplomacy.— The  City 
of  one  Pianoforte. —A  Snow-Storm  in  June.— A  Sud 
den  Recall 81 

CHAPTER  VI. 
HARD   WORK   AT. HOME. 

1836-1845. 

•William  Leggett.  —  The  Ideal  Journalist.  — The  Fortunes  of 
an  Ideal  Newspaper.— Genius  and  Prudence.  — A  Poet 
at  Work.  — A  Labyrinth  of  Questions.  — A  Challenge  to 
Mortal  Combat.  —  Parke  Godwin.— Mr.  Godwin's  Rem 
iniscences  of  Bryant.  — A  Tour  on  the  Prairies.  —  "  The 
Fountain  and  Other  Poems."  —A  Criticism.  —  Poe's  Opin 
ion  of  Bryant.  —  A  Journey  through  the  South.  —  A  Second 
Visit  to  Europe •.  .  91 

CHAPTER  VII. 
IN   MANY   LANDS. 

1845-1850. 

An  Ocean  Voyage.— A  Ride  through  Derbyshire.  —  A  Din 
ner  with  the  American  Minister  at  London.  —  A  Break 
fast  with  Rogers.  —  Powers  and  his  Greek  Slave.  —  Amer 
ican  Art  in  England.  —  "  The  Lungs  of  London."  — The 
Highlands  of  Scotland.  —  The  Home  of  Burns.— In  Ire 
land.  —  Through  Germany.  — Return  to  New  York.  — A 
Picture  of  the  Poet.  —  Excursions  in  the  United  States.  — 
A  Visit  to  Cuba.— In  London  again.  — A  Tour  through 
the  Orkneys  and  Shetland.  — Europe  \mder  the  Bayonet. 
—Home  in  New  York.  — The  Letters  of  a  Traveller  .  .101 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
HOME-LIFE. 

1850-1857. 

Home  in  Civilized  Life.  —  Bryant's  Enjoyment  of  Home. — 
The  Purchase  of  Cedarmere.— Description  of  Cedarmere. 
—  Scenery  about  Cedarmere.  —  Interior  of  the  House.— 


10  CONTENTS. 

•% 

PAGE 

The  Library.  — His  Family.  —  Other  Residences.  —  His 
Habits  of  Life.  —  His  Appearance.  —His  Literary  Employ 
ments. —  His  Joy  at  the  Return  of  Spring.  —  Public  Cere 
monies. —  The  Banquet  to  Kossuth. — His  Manner  on 
Ceremonial  Occasions.  —His  Oration  on  Cooper.  —  A  Com 
plete  Collection  of  his  Poems 115 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A   JOURNEY   IN    SPAIN. 

1857-1859- 

A  Romantic  Journey.  —  An  Abbess's  Notion  of  Geography. 
—  Sojourn  at  Madrid.  —  Spanish  Social  Life.  —  Ernilio  Cas- 
telar.  —  Journey  to  Alicante.  —  To  Malaga.  —  A 'Visit  to 
Grenada.  —  Architecture  of  the  Alhambra.  —  The  Tomb 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. — Departure  from  Spain.  —  A 
Winter  in  Italy.  — The  Poet's  Baptism. —His  Religious 
Life.  — Illness  of  Mrs.  Bryant.  — "The  Life  that  Is."  — 
Return  to  America 127 

CHAPTER  X. 

A   PATRIARCH   IN   LETTERS. 
1858-1878. 

Bryant  at  Sixty-four.  —  Public  Addresses.  — His  Manner  as 
a  Speaker.  —  Refusal  to  hold  Public  Offices.  —  Celebration 
of  his  Seventieth  Birthday.  —  Improvement  of  the  Home 
stead  at  Cummington.  —  Benefactions  at  Cummington  and 
Roslyn.  —  The  Death  of  Mrs.  Bryant.  —  The  Translation  of 
Homer.  —  Other  Literary  Labors.  —  His  Invitations  to  criti 
cise  the  Productions  of  Versifiers.  —  A  Letter  to  a  Young 
Writer.— Publication  of  "The  Iliad."  — A  Criticism.— 
Publication  of  "  The  Odyssey."  —  An  Autobiographic 
Letter.  —  A  Visit  to  Mexico.  —  Address  on  Reform.  —  The 
Bryant  Vase.  —  Some  Opinions  of  Writers.  —  His  Reci 
tation  of  Poetry.  — The  Mazzini  Oration.  — The  Fatal 
Fall.  —  Last  Illness.  —  The  Burial  at  Roslyn  .  .  .139 


CONTENTS.  11 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE   JOURNALIST. 

PAGB 

The  Profession  of  Journalism.  —  The  Amount  of  Bryant's 
Writing.  — The  Literary  Character  of  his  Editorial  Work. 

—  The  Three  Schools  of  Journalism.  —  Doctrines  advo 
cated  in  "  The  Evening  Post."  —  Free  Trade.  —  Party  Con 
nections  of  "  The  Post."  — Bryant  proposed  for  President 
of  the  United  States.  — His  Attitude  on  Slavery.  — The 
Nationality  of  the  Union.  —  His  Advocacy  of  Equal  Rights. 

—  His  Character  as  a  Disputant.— His  Assistants. —His 
Loyalty  to  his  Profession.  —  His  Relations  with  his  Staff.  — 
His  Tenderness  toward  Weak  Poets. —His  Economy.— 
His  Truthfulness. — A  Review  of  his  Work  as  a  Jour 
nalist   169 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  POET. 

American  Poets  before  Bryant.  —  A  Sudden  Transition. — 
Bryant's  Training  as  a  Poet.  —  Bryant's  Theory  of  Poetry. 

—  His  Liberality  of  Opinion.  —  Bryant  and  Wordsworth. 

—  Periods  in  Bryant's  Life  as  a  Poet. —  His  Choice  of 
Themes.  —  His  Methods  of  Dealing  with  Nature.  —  His 
Indian  Pieces.  —  His  Humorous  Verses.  —  His  Poems  of 
Fancy.  —  His  Poems  of  Sentiment.  —  His  War  Lyrics.  — 
His    Translations.  —  Bryant     compared    with    Pope.  — 
Bryant's  Philosophy  of  Life.  —  Bryant's  Want  of  Popu 
larity.  —  The  Endurance  of  his  Works 184 


THE  CHRONOLOGY  OP  BRYANT'S  LIFE. 


DATE. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  born      ....  Nov.           3,1794 

First  Poems  printed     .        .        .       .       .       .  March       18, 1807 

"  The  Embargo "  printed    .        .        .        .       .  1808 

"  The  Genius  of  Columbia "       ....  1810 

Enters  Williams  College  ..."..  Oct.,  1810 

Leaves  Williams  College  .  ...  .  May,  1811 

"  Thanatopsis "  written 1812 

Begins  the  Study  of  Law  .  .  .  .  1812 

Admitted  to  the  Bar '  .  1815 

"  Thanatopsis "  printed  .  .  .  .  .  1817 

Marries  Miss  Fanny  Fairchild  .  .  .  .  1821 

Delivers  "The  Ages"  at  Harvard  .  .  .  1821 

Removes  to  New-York  City  ....  1825 
Union  of  "  The  New-York  Review "  and  "The 

New- York  Literary  Gazette "  .  .  .  March  17,  1826 
Becomes  Assistant  Editor  of  "The  Evening 

Post" 1826 

Edits  "The  Talisman"  with  Verplanck  and 

Sands 1827-1830 

Becomes  Chief  Editor  of  "  The  Evening  Post "  1829 

First  European  Tour 1834-1838 

"  The  Fountain,  and  Other  Poems,"  published  1842 

First  Tour  in  the  South March-May,  1843 

"  The  White-Footed  Deer,  and  Other  Poems," 

published  .  .  .  .  .  ;  .  1844 

Purchases  the  Estate  at  Roslyn  ....  1845 

Second  European  Tour April-Dec.,  1845 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  Thomas  Cole  .  .  1848 
Second  Tour  in  the  South,  and  First  Visit  to 

Cuba  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .  March-May,  1849 

13 


14               CHRONOLOGY   OF   BRYANT'S  LIFE. 

DATE. 

Third  European  Tour June-Oct.,  1840 

"  Letters  of  a  Traveller"  published  .  v  .  1850 

Presides  at  the  Banquet  to  Kossuth  .  .  .  Dec.  9,  1851 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  J.  Fenimore  Cooper  Feb.  25,  1852 
Fourth  European  Tour,  Visit  to  the  Holy  Land, 

and  Second  Visit  to  Cuba  ....  1852 

A  Complete  Edition  of  Poems  published  .  1854 

Fifth  European  Tour,  and  First  Visit  to  Spain  1857-1858 

Baptized  at  Naples April,  1858 

Dangerous  Illness  of  Mrs.  Bryant  at  Naples  .  May,  1858 
"Letters  from  Spain  and  Other  Countries" 

published 1859 

Address  at  the  Schiller  Festival  .  .  .  Nov.  11, 1859 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  Washington  Irving  .  1860 

Made  Presidential  Elector 1860 

"  Thirty  Poems :"  published  ....  1863 
Seventieth  Birthday  celebrated  by  the  Century 

Club Nov.  3,  1864 

Death  of  Mrs.  Bryant June,  1866 

Last  European  Tour 1867 

The  Free-Trade  Banquet  to  Bryant  .  .  .  Jan.  30,  1868 

"  Letters  from  the  East "  published  .  .  .  1869 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  .  Feb.  3, 1869 

Translation  of  "The  Iliad"  published  .  .  1870 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  Gulian  C.  Verplanck  .  May  17,  1870 

Translation  of  "  The  Odyssey  "  published  .  1871 

Address  on  Italian  Unity Jan.,  1871 

Address  on  the  Unveiling  of  the  Morse  Statue  .  June  10, 1871 

Tour  in  Mexico Winter  of  1871-72 

Address  on  the  Unveiling  of  the  Shakespeare 

Statue May  22,1872 

Address  on  Reform Sept.  23,  1872 

Address  on  the  Scott  Statue  ....  Nov.  4, 1872 

Visited  by  the  Commemorative  Committee  .  Nov.  3,  1874 

"  The  Flood  of  Years "  published  .  .  .  1876 

Presentation  of  the  Commemorative  Vase  .  June  20, 1876 

Delivers  the  Oration  on  Mazzini  .  .  .  May  29, 1878 

Death  of  Bryant June  12, 1878 

Burial June  14,  1878 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


BORN.  DIED. 

JONATHAN  EDWARDS  .       .       .       .      '.  1708  .  .  .  1758 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  .       .       .       .       .  1706  .  •     .  .  1790 

FRANCIS  HOPKINSON   .       .  -     .       .  1738  .  .  .  1791 

JOHN  TRUMBULL  ......  1750  .  .  .  1831 

TIMOTHY  DWIGHT 1782  .  .  .  1817 

PHILIP  FRENEAU  .        .        .       .        .        .  1782  .  .  .  1832 

JOEL  BARLOW 1788  .  .  .  1812 

CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN     .        .       .  1771  .  .  .  1810 

JAMES  KIRKE  PAULDING    ....  1779  .  »  .  18(50 

WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING    .       .       .  1780  .  .  .  1842 

WASHINGTON  IRVING  .       .       .       .       .  1783  .  .  .  1859 

RICHARD  HENRY  DANA      .        .        .        .  1787  .  .  .  1879 

JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER  .        .        .        .  1789  .  .  .  1851 

FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK      ....  1790  .  .  .  1867 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT      .        .  1794  .  .  .  1878 

JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE    ....  1795  .  .  .  1820 

WILLIAM  HICKLING  PRESCOTT  .        .        .  1796  .  .  .  1859 

GEORGE  BANCROFT      .        .        ...        .  1800  .  .  .    

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON  ....  1803  .  .  .  — — 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE    .       ...  1804  .  .  .  1864 

HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW  .        .  1807  .  .  .    

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER    .        .        .  1808  .  .  .    

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 1809  .  .  .  1849 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES        .        .        .  1809  .  .  .    

JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY     ....  1814  .  .  .  1877 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL    ....  1819  .  .  .    

BAYARD  TAYLOR 1825  .  .  .  1878 

15 


LIFE  OP  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHILDHOOD. 
1794-1807. 

"  A  delicate  child  and  slender, 

With  lock  of  light-brown  hair, 
From  knoll  to  knoll  is  leaping 
In  the  breezy  summer  air." 

FROM  many  points  of  view  the  life  of  William 
Cullen  Brj^ant  is  impressive.  For  nearly  a 
century,  as  from  a  secure  eminence,  he  saw  "  the 
flood  of  years"  poured  from  the  exhaustless  urn 
of  time  by  the  mighty  hand,  and  watched  the 
eddying  movements  of  men  and  nations  as  they 
swept  on  in  their  courses,  or  sank  forever  beneath 
the  tide.  He  followed  in  the  journals  of  the  day 
the  campaigns  of  the  first  Napoleon,  and  beheld 
his  final  fall  at  Waterloo.  He  watched  the  entire 
career  of  Louis  Philippe  and  of  Louis  Napoleon; 
and  at  last  saw  the  French  Republic  re-established, 

17 


18  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYAXT. 

and  its  first  president  pass  away.  At  home  lie 
witnessed  the  struggles  that  attended  the  settle 
ment  of  the  Constitution,  and  mingled  his  opin 
ions  with  those  of  Jefferson,  Clay,  Calhoun,  and 
Webster.  He  lived  to  see  the  civil  conflict  ended, 
the  Union  restored,  and  freedom  made  universal 
in  the  Republic.  In  literature  he  saw  the  author 
of  "  Waverley  "  take  his  place  among  the  world's 
masters  in  fiction.  He  was  past  the  meridian  of 
life  when  Macaulay  wrote  his  "History  of  Eng 
land  ;  "  and  Dickens  and  Thackeray  were  mere 
striplings  when  his  fame  as  a  poet  was  established. 
Longfellow  and  Emerson — gray-headed  men  when 
he  died  —  were  his  children  in  song ;  and  one  has 
publicly  recognized  him  as  his  earliest  teacher  in 
the  art  of  verse. 

But  it  is  not  a  veneration  for  antiquity  alone 
that  interests  his  countrymen  "in  the  life  of  the 
poet.  His  career  is  a  lesson  to  the  world  in  the 
philosophy  of  living.  With  little  of  the  "storm 
and  stress  "  that  often  make  men  conspicuous,  and 
throw  a  halo  of  heroic  glamour  about  them,  his 
quiet  life  has  a  peculiar  power  over  the  mind.  It 
illustrates  the  possible  harmony  of  genius,  virtue, 
and  prosperity,  —  a  harmony  so  often  doubted.  If 
his  life  does  not  contain  much  of  thrilling  incident 
or  brilliant  achievement,  it  exemplifies  the  possible 
attainment  of  the  great  ends  of  living  without 
these  accompaniments.  To  men  of  earlier  and 


CHILDHOOD.  19 

more  barbarous  times  the  life  of  our  poet  would 
seem  tame  and  commonplace.  To  the  best  minds 
of  our  milder  age  it  presents  an  almost  ideal 
existence,  —  affording  quiet  without  inaction,  so 
ciety  without  the  sacrifice  of  retirement,  variety 
without  vicissitude,  fame  without  vituperation, 
and  wealth  without  dishonor. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  was  born  on  the  3d  of 
November,  1794,  at  Cummington,  Mass.  He 
sprang  from  that  vigorous  and  God-fearing  Anglo- 
American  race  that  has  subdued  the  rugged  soil 
of  New  England,  and  furnished  the  leaders  of  our 
intellectual  life  in  larger  proportion  than  any 
other.  The  first  Bryant  is  said  to  have  crossed 
the  ocean  in  "  The  Mayflower ; "  but  the  tradition 
is  not  authenticated  by  documentary  proof.  One 
Stephen  Bryant  is  known  to  have  settled  at 
Plymouth,  Mass.,  before  1640,  where  he  married, 
and  was  afterward  a  town-officer.  This  was 
probably  the  "Mayflower"  colonist,  and  the  first 
American  ancestor  of  the  poet. 

The  great-grandson  of  Stephen  B-ryant  inherited 
from  his  father  the  name  of  Peter  and  the  profes 
sion  of  medicine.  Having  established  himself  in 
practice  at  North  Bridgewater,  he  fell  in  love 
with  Miss  Sarah  Snell,  a  descendant  of  John 
Alden,  the  handsome  secretary  of  Miles  Standish. 
Before  Dr.  Peter  Bryant  had  won  his  bride,  her 
father  removed  to  Cummington.  Nothing  daunted, 


20  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

the  young  physician  resolved  to  follow,  and  soon 
transferred  himself  and  his  medicines  to  the  new 
home  of  the  lady's  father.  In  1792  the  pair  were 
married,  and  made  their  home  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  bride's  parents.  Here  were  born  to 
them  seven  children,  of  whom  William  Cullen 
was  the  second. 

Dr.  Bryant  was  more  than  an  ordinary  village 
physician.  He  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  care 
fully  educated ;  for  he  knew  what  was  best  in  the 
poetry  of  two  literatures,  the  English  and  the 
French.  He  was  not  a  writer  for  the  press,  but 
was  fond  of  exercising  his  talent  for  rhyming  by 
throwing  his  thoughts  into  verse,  and  succeeded 
in  producing  some  very  respectable  Hudibrastic 
lines.  He  was  a  keen  student  of  human  nature, 
and  had  a  ready  appreciation  of  a  fine  stroke  of 
wit,  or  a  lurking  gleam  of  humor.  He  delighted 
in  the  epigrammatic  lines  of  the  poets  of  Queen 
Anne's  time,  and  had  made  his  excellent  memory 
a  well-stored  magazine  of  satiric  verses.  He  add 
ed  to  his  intellectual  accomplishments  those  mus 
cular  feats  which  are  so  much  admired  in  rural 
communities ;  and  doubtless  was  supposed  to  make 
better  pills,  and  have  more  control  over  a  fever, 
because  he  could  swing  a  barrel  of  cider  from  the 
ground  over  the  wheel  of  a  wagon.  His  personal 
appearance  assisted  in  winning  for  him  the  respect 
of  his  village  neighbors.  His  tall,  broad-shouldered, 


CHILDHOOD.  21 

well-dressed  figure  impressed  the  beholder  with 
the  idea  that  he  was  a  person  of  some  consequence. 
Such,  at  least,  his  fellow-citizens  thought  him ;  for 
they  sent  him  several  times  to  the  Massachusetts 
House  of  Representatives,  and  afterwards  to  the 
State  Senate.  His  public  life  brought  him  much 
in  contact  with  professional  and  literary  men  in 
Boston,  where  he  was  honored  by  those  who  knew 
him. 

The  poet's  mother  was  a  lady  of  personal  dignity 
and  excellent  good  sense.  Her  education  was 
probably  limited  to  the  branches  taught  in  a  com 
mon  school ;  but  she  possessed  those  qualities  of 
heart  and  that  pious  devotion  that  make  home 
happy  and  life  beautiful.  The  poet  alludes  to  this 
"  stately  lady  "  in  his  autobiographic  poem,  "  A 
Lifetime,"  written  when  the  scenes  of  childhood 
were  recollections  of  a  remote  past.  He  pictures 
himself  standing  by  the  knee  of  his  mother,  and 

"  Reading  of  ancient  peoples 
And  realms  beyond  the  sea ; 

Of  the  cruel  king  of  Egypt 

Who  made  God's  people  slaves, 
And  perished  with  all  his  army, 

Drowned  in  the  Red-sea  waves  ; 

Of  Deborah,  who  mustered 

Her  brethren  long  oppressed, 
And  routed  the  heathen  army, 

And  gave  her  people  rest ; 


22          LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

And  the  sadder,  gentler  story, — 

How  Christ,  the  crucified, 
With  a  prayer  for  those  who  slew  him, 

Forgave  them  as  he  died." 

The  career  of  young  Bryant  seemed  to  have 
been  fixed  for  him  in  the  selection  of  his  name. 
His  father  loved  his  profession  and  his  boy,  and 
thought  to  honor  both  by  devoting  his  son  to 
medicine.  Four  years  before  the  poet's  birth,  a 
great  medical  authority  at  Edinburgh  had  died. 
Dr.  Bryant  had  read  and  admired  his  able  lectures 
on  the  healing  art,  and  had  learned  to  venerate  the 
amiable  qualities  of  his  personal  character.  He 
found  a  ready  and  satisfactory  solution  of  that 
most  vexatious  problem  of  parentage,  the  naming 
of  a  boy,  by  calling  his  son  after  the  Edinburgh 
professor,  William  Cullen.  American  boys  seem 
to  have  an  instinctive  aversion  to  caste,  even  in 
its  traditional  perpetuation  of  a  profession ;  and 
William  Cullen  Bryant  seems  never  to  have  in 
tended  becoming  a  disciple  of  JEsculapius.  His 
brothers  entertained  the  same  feeling,  and  Dr. 
Peter  Bryant's  mortars  and  pestles  found  no  lineal 
heir. 

There  was  little  promise  of  a  long  life  in  the 
frail  child,  but  even  reason  to  fear  that  it  was 
needless  to  select  a  profession  for  him.  His  body 
was  small,  and  seemed  to  lack  vitality ;  while  his 
head,  and  especially  the  cerebral  regions,  showed 


CHILDHOOD.  23 

an  abnormally  rapid  development.  The  parents 
became  alarmed;  but  the  good  doctor  adopted  a 
course  of  treatment,  which,  at  least,  has  the  merit 
of  having  proved  effectual.  Not  far  from  the 
house  was  a  deep  spring  of  cold  water,  and  into 
this  the  protesting  infant  was  immersed  at  an  early 
hour  every  morning  by  Dr.  Bryant's  students. 
The  philosophy  of  this  hydropathic  treatment 
probably  is,  that  all  the  vitality  of  the  child  was 
aroused  in  his  struggles  to  prevent  the  process ! 

The  Bryant  homestead,  owned  at  the  day  of  his 
death  by  the  poet,  is  situated  in  the  grand  hill- 
country  of  Western  Massachusetts.  The  summits 
of  the  hills  are  still  covered  with  dark,  waving 
forests,  and  gray  rocks  gleam  out  here  and  there 
from  their  shadowed  sides.  Along  the  slopes  well- 
tilled  farm -lands  stretch  away  to  the  rushing 
streams  that  have  cut  down  deep  into  the  narrow 
valleys  between  the  hills. 

"  Thou  wilt  find  nothing  here 
Of  all  that  pained  thee  in  the  haunts  of  men, 
And  made  thee  loathe  thy  life." 

From  these  hills  and  woods  and  streams  the 
poet  drank  in  that  deep,  pure  love  of  Nature  that 
breathes  through  his  noblest  lines.  Here  springs 
beneath  the  brown  trailing  skirts  of  Autumn  "  The 
Fringed  Gentian,"  — 

"  Blossom  bright  with  autumn  dew, 
And  colored  with  the  heaven's  own  blue, 


24  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEK  BRYANT. 

That  openest  when  the  quiet  light 
Succeeds  the  keen  and  frosty  night." 

Here  too, 

"  When  beechen  buds  begin  to  swell, 

And  woods  the  bluebird's  warble  know 
The  yellow  violet's  modest  bell 
Peeps  from  the  last  year's  leaves  below." 

Here,  not  many  rods  from  the  homestead,  flows 
"  The  Rivulet,"  whose  "  warbling  waters  often 
drew  "  his  "  little  feet,  when  life  was  new,"  — 

"  This  little  rill,  that  from  the  springs 
Of  yonder  grove  its  current  brings, 
Plays  on  the  slope  a  while,  and  then 
Goes  prattling  into  groves  again." 

Beyond  a  meadow  to  the  south  of  the  old  house 
is  the  "Entrance  to  a  Wood,"  over  which  the 
poet's  eye  read  the  inscription,  — 

"  Stranger,  if  thou  hast  learned  a  truth  which  needs 
No  school  of  long  experience,  —  that  the  world 
Is  full  of  guilt  and  misery,  —  and  hast  seen 
Enough  of  all  its  sorrows,  crimes,  and  cares 
To  tire  thee  of  it,  enter  this  wild  wood, 
And  view  the  haunts  of  Nature." 

To  these  healing  scenes  of  childhood  the  poet 
throughout  his  life  made  frequent  pilgrimages. 
Wearied  with  the  strifes  of  men,  and  worn  with 
the  distractions  of  a  toilsome  profession,  a  return 
to  these  haunts  of  innocence  was  like  turning  back 


CHILDHOOD.  25 

the  hand  on  the  dial-plate  of  life.  Nature,  like  a 
fond  mother,  ever  seemed  to  wait  his  coming,  and 
to  give  him  new  heart  for  the  struggles  of  the 
world.  His  joy  is  almost  rapturous  as  he  sings,  — 

"  I  stand  upon  my  native  hills  again, 

Broad,  round,  and  green,  that  in  the  summer  sky, 
With  garniture  of  waving  grass  and  grain, 

Orchards,  and  beechen  forests,  basking  lie ; 
While  deep  the  sunless  fens  are  scooped  between, 
Where  brawl  o'er  shallow  beds  the  streams  unseen." 

There  seem  to  have  been  domestic  reasons  for 
the  child's  love  of  outdoor  life  and  the  consola 
tions  of  Nature's  freedom.  His  mother's  father, 
Ebenezer  Snell,  retained  many  of  the  sterner  Puri 
tan  qualities,  and  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian.  He 
inherited  a  magisterial  severity  from  his  good 
ancestors  who  burned  witches,  and  whipped  cul 
prits  ;  and  had  developed  whatever  of  the  latent 
Draconian  spirit  there  was  in  him  by  a  term  of 
service  as  an  officer  of  the  peace.  The  whipping 
post  was  still  a  social  institution  in  Massachusetts, 
and  its  use  was  not  discontinued  until  some  years 
after  the  poet's  birth.  The  grandfather  carried 
his  notions  of  government  into  the  household,  and 
was  a  terror  to  the  entire  family.  Bryant  has 
given  an  interesting  picture  of  the  position  of 
children  generally  in  the  days  of  his  childhood, 
and  has  drawn  his  illustrations  from  his  own 


26  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BUYANT. 

home.     It  will  be  best  appreciated  in  his  own  lan 
guage  :  — 

"  The  boys  of  the  generation  to  which  I  belonged  —  that 
is  to  say,  who  were  born  in  the  last  years  of  the  last  century 
or  the  earliest  of  this — were  brought  up  under  a  system  of 
discipline  which  put  a  far  greater  distance  between  parents 
and  their  children  than  now  exists.  The  parents  seemed  to 
think  this  necessary  in  order  to  secure  obedience.  They 
were  believers  in  the  old  maxim,  that  familiarity  breeds 
contempt.  My  own  parents  lived  in  the  house  with  my 
grandfather  and  grandmother  on  the  mother's  side.  My 
grandfather  was  a  disciplinarian  of  the  stricter  sort ;  and  I 
can  hardly  find  words  to  express  the  awe  in  which  I  stood 
of  him,  —  an  awe  so  great  as  almost  to  prevent  any  thing 
like  affection  on  my  part,  although  he  was  in  the  main 
kind,  and  certainly  never  thought  of  being  severe  beyond 
what  was  necessary  to  maintain  a  proper  degree  of  order  in 
the  family. 

"  The  other  boys  in  that  part  of  the  country,  my  school 
mates  and  playfellows,  were  educated  on  the  same  system. 
Yet  there  were  at  that  time  some  indications  that  this  very 
severe  discipline  was  beginning  to  relax.  With  my  father 
and  mother  I  was  on  much  easier  terms  than  with  my  grand 
father.  If  a  favor  was  to  be  asked  of  my  grandfather,  it 
was  asked  with  fear  and  trembling :  the  request  was  post 
poned  to  the  last  moment,  and  then  made  with  hesitation 
and  blushes  and  a  confused  utterance. 

"  One  of  the  means  of  keeping  the  boys  of  that  genera 
tion  in  order  was  a  little  bundle  of  birchen  rods,  bound  to 
gether  by  a  small  cord,  and  generally  suspended  on  a  nail 
against  the  wall  in  the  kitchen.  This  was  esteemed  as 
much  a  part  of  the  necessary  furniture  as  the  crane  that 
hung  in  the  kitchen  fireplace,  or  the  shovel  and  tongs.  It 


CHILDHOOD.  27 

sometimes  happened  that  the  boy  suffered  a  fate  similar  to 
that  of  the  eagle  in  the  fable,  wounded  by  an  arrow  fledged 
with  a  feather  from  his  own  wing  ;  in  other  words,  the  boy 
was  made  to  gather  the  twigs  intended  for  his  own  castiga- 
tion."  1 

This  system  seems  to  have  been  productive  of 
one  juvenile  virtue  which  the  later  relaxation 
of  discipline  has  allowed  to  languish,  —  a  venera 
tion  for  the  aged.  A  modest  deference  to  supe 
riors  was  inculcated,  and,  if  necessary,  enforced. 
The  minister  of  the  parish  was  the  most  important 
personage  in  the  community,  however ;  and  all 
were  expected  to  show  marked  consideration  for 
"the  cloth."  Long  pastorates  tended  to  enchain 
the  regard  of  the  old  through  the  memory  of  past 
kindnesses,  and  the  respect  of  the  young  through 
a  reverence  for  the  hand  that  had  christened  and 
blessed  them.  The  minister  was  a  self-appointed 
superintendent  of  schools,  who  attended  the  ex 
aminations,  heard  recitations  in  the  catechism,  and 
exhorted  the  pupils  to  uprightness  and  godliness 
of  life.  The  poet  has  described  one  of  these 
pastoral  visits  to  the  school  which  he  attended. 
Having  heard  the  lessons  recited,  and  having 
examined  the  children  in  the  "  Westminster  Cate 
chism,"  the  worthy  man  began  his  address.  "  He 
told  us,"  says  the  poet,  "  how  much  greater  were 
the  advantages  of  education  which  we  enjoyed 

1  The  Boys  of  my  Boyhood :  St.  Nicholas,  December,  1876. 


28  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

than  those  which  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  our 
parents ;  and  exhorted  us  to  make  the  best  possi 
ble  use  of  them,  both  for  our  own  sakes  and  that  of 
our  parents,  who  were  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice 
for  us,  even  so  far  as  to  take  the  bread  out  of  their 
own  mouths  to  give  us.  I  remember  being  dis 
gusted  with  this  illustration  of  parental  kindness, 
which  I  was  obliged  to  listen  to  twice  at  least 
every  year." 

The  educational  advantages  enjoyed  by  the 
young  auditors  seem  not  to  have  been  extraor 
dinary.  A  New-England  country  school  of  that 
day  included  in  its  curriculum  little  more  than 
reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic ;  though  some  at 
tention  was  given  to  spelling  and  grammar.  The 
quality  of  the  instruction  was  not  of  a  character 
to  warrant  much  congratulation  of  the  pupils. 

Thus  surrounded  with  the  asperities  of  dis 
cipline,  and  disgusted  with  exhortations,  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  the  green  fields,  the  bickering 
brooks,  and  the  solemn  woods,  possessed  a  peculiar 
charm  for  the  delicate  boy.  The  most  delightful 
hours  of  his  childhood  were  spent  in  ramblings 
and  musings  "  under  the  open  sky,"  listening  to 
"  Nature's  teachings,"  holding  "  communion  with 
her  visible  forms,"  and  interpreting  her  "  various 
language."  To  him  this  was  not  then  poetry,  but 
existence.  Only  long  afterward,  when  the  mind 
sought  consciously  for  its  highest  sources  of  hap- 


CHILDHOOD.  29 

piness,  and,  missing  them,  strove  to  regain  them, 
did  these  early  impressions  embody  themselves  in 
rhythmical  expression, — the  verbal  concrete  of 
these  first  emotions.  The  poet  found  the  key  to 
Nature's  chamber  of  harmonies  in  these  experi 
ences  of  childhood,  and  whoever  would  find  the 
key  of  his  literary  life  must  seek  it  here. 


30  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  BOY-POET. 
1807-1815. 

"  I  see  him  next  in  his  chamber, 

Where  he  sits  him  down  to  write 

The  rhymes  he  framed  in  his  ramble, 

And  he  cons  them  with  delight." 

DR.  PETER  BRYANT  was  an  ambitious 
father,  and  wished  to  make  of  his  boy  a 
distinguished  man.  He  watched  with  a  father's 
solicitude  the  physical  development  of  the  child, 
but  not  less  closely  the  tendencies  of  his  mind. 
He  discovered  in  him  with  pleasure  a  capacity  for 
the  enjoyment  and  the  making  of  verses.  His 
own  favorite  poems  were  put  into  the  boy's  hands, 
and  he  was  encouraged  to  study  and  imitate  them. 
The  impression  made  upon  his  mind  by  the  wits 
of  Queen  Anne's  time  is  easily  perceived  in  his 
earliest  productions.  Pope's  methods  are  espe 
cially  traceable  in  all  the  juvenile  poems  of  his 
young  admirer,  and  his  correctness  and  balanced 
style  often  characterize  even  those  later  descrip- 


THE   BOY-POET.  31 

tions  of  Nature  which  lack  the  artificial  air  of  this 
early  master. 

How  soon  young  Bryant  began  to  write  verses 
there  is  no  means  of  knowing.  He  is  said  to  have 
made  a  metrical  paraphrase  of  the  first  chapter 
of  the  Book  of  Job  when  in  his  tenth  year.  His 
first  literary  labors  were  more  profitable  than  those 
of  most  young  writers  ;  for  his  paraphrase  brought 
him  ninepence  from  his  rigid  but  well-meaning 
grandfather.  This  performance  was  followed  by 
numerous  efforts;  among  them  an  ode  on  an 
eclipse  of  the  sun,  and  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  a 
cousin. 

Although  this  precocity  is  unusual,  it  is  by  no 
means  unparalleled.  Poe  wrote  "  Al  Aaraaf "  when 
he  was  ten  years  old,  and,  after  his  fame  as  a  poet 
was  established,  beguiled  a  Boston  audience  into 
believing  that  it  was  an  extraordinary  perform 
ance,  until  he  cruelly  informed  some  friends,  before 
he  left  the  city,  that  it  was  a  vagary  in  verse 
composed  in  his  childhood.  Pope  wrote  smooth 
verses  at  twelve,  and  Cowley  at  ten.  Though 
Chatterton  died  a  mere  boy,  his  verses  deceived 
some  of  the  crowned  heads  of  literature.  Tasso 
began  writing  at  nine ;  and  a  book  of  poems  has 
recently  been  printed,  composed  entirely  by  two 
little  children. 

Bryant  himself,  in  later  years,  did  not  regard 
this  early  gift  of  versification  as  at  all  remarkable 


32  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

or  promising.  Speaking  of  Fitz-Greene  Halle ck, 
he  says,  "I  do  not  find  that  Halleck  began  to 
write  verses  prematurely.  Poetry,  with  most  men, 
is  one  of  the  sins  of  their  youth,  and  a  great  deal 
of  it  is  written  before  the  authors  can  be  justly 
said  to  have  reached  years  of  discretion.  With 
the  greater  number  it  runs  its  course,  and  passes 
off,  like  the  measles  or  the  chicken-pox;  with  a 
few  it  takes  the  chronic  form,  and  lasts  a  lifetime ; 
and  I  have  known  cases  of  persons  attacked  by  it 
in  old  age.  A  very  small  number  who  begin,  like 
Milton,  Cowley,  and  Pope,  to  write  verses  when 
scarce  out  of  childhood,  afterwards  become  emi 
nent  as  poets ;  but,  as  a  rule,  precocity  in  this  de 
partment  of  letters  is  no  sign  of  genius."  1 

Dr.  Bryant  differed  in  opinion  from  his  son  so 
far  as  to  think  him  a  prodigy,  and  strove  to  guide 
him  in  acquiring  the  art  of  poetry.  The  poet 
afterwards  acknowledged  his  indebtedness  to 
parental  instruction  and  encouragement  in  these 
lines  of  his  impressive  "  Hymn  to  Death :  "  — 

"  For  he  is  in  his  grave  who  taught  my  youth 
The  art  of  verse,  and  in  the  bud  of  life 
Offered  me  to  the  Muses." 

Some  of  his  early  verses  were  printed  in  "  The 
Hampshire  Gazette,"  and  were  much  admired  in 
the  neighborhood.  Among  the  earliest  of  these 

i  Orations  and  Addresses,  pp.  161, 162. 


THE   BOY-POET.  33 

was  a  poem  read  before  the  school  which  Master 
Bryant  attended  when  he  was  twelve  years  old. 
It  appeared  in  the  "  Gazette"  in  March,  1807,  and 
was  signed  "  C.  B."  As  these  juvenile  composi 
tions  are  not  printed  in  the  current  editions  of  the 
author's  poems,  some  illustrative  extracts  may  be 
appropriate  here.  After  referring  to  the  "back 
ward  look  of  affrighted  Science  "  when 

"  The  dire  strife  with  Britain's  pow'r  unfurled 
War's  bloody  banners  over  half  the  world," 

the  young  bard  paints  the  happier  days  when  "  smil 
ing  Science  lifts  her  eye  sedate ;  "  and  closes  with 
this  address  to  his  fellow-pupils,  in  which  the  les 
sons  of  Pope  and  his  Puritan  mother  are  united  in 
an  interesting  manner :  — 

"  My  comrades  !  tho'  we're  not  a  num'rous  train, 
'Tis  doubtful  whether  we  shall  meet  again  ; 
For  Death's  cold  hand  may  aim  th'  unerring  blow, 
And  lay  with  heavy  stroke  the  victim  low : 
From  this  frail  state  th'  unbody'd  soul  will  fly, 
And  sink  to  hell,  or  soar  above  the  sky. 
Then  let  us  tread,  as  lowly  Jesus  trod, 
The  path  that  leads  the  sinner  to  his  God; 
Keep  heaven's  bright  mansion  ever  in  our  eyes  ; 
Press  tow'rds  the  mark,  and  seize  the  glorious  prize." 

One  might  suppose  that  the  first  objects  cele 
brated  in  the  verses  of  the  young  poet  would  be 
the  beauties  of  Nature  which  everywhere  sur 
rounded  him,  and  filled  his  soul  with  delight. 


34  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

Such,  however,  was  not  the  case.  Poetry  aims  at 
the  ideal,  the  distant,  the  mysterious,  the  unknown, 
the  unattainable.  Hardly  a  line  of  these  early 
poems  seems  to  have  been  inspired  by  the  scenes 
around  its  author.  Poems  of  the  affections  are 
usually  written  before  the  attainment  of  the  loved 
object,  or  after  its  loss :  possession  and  enjoyment 
crowd  out  the  desire  to  commemorate  in  verse. 
It  is  often  so  in  the  poet's  treatment  of  Nature. 

The  first  clear  strains  of  Bryant's  song  were 
patriotic,  and  the  loudest  notes  were  martial. 
Like  every  young  American  who  thinks  at  all,  he 
became  interested  in  politics  at  a  very  early  age. 
We  often  regard  our  own  times  as  unhappily  dis 
cordant,  and  more  partisan  than  patriotic  in  their 
strifes,  and  long  for  a  return  of  the  days  of  frater 
nal  harmony  among  our  countrymen.  The  period 
of  Bryant's  youth,  however,  was  not  less  marked 
by  party-spirit  than  our  own ;  and  a  wider  histori 
cal  view  would  probably  show  that  men  have 
always  been  very  much  alike  as  regards  difference 
of  opinion  in  matters  of  state. 

In  December,  1807,  President  Jefferson  recom 
mended  that  an  embargo  be  laid  upon  all  vessels 
owned  by  citizens  of  the  United  States,  to  prevent 
their  leaving  American  ports.  The  people  of  New 
England  saw  in  this  measure  the  destruction  of 
their  commerce,  and  some  even  imagined  that  it 
favored  a  design  of  Napoleon  to  reduce  this  coun- 


THE   BOY-POET.  35 

try  to  subjection.  Young  Bryant  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  hour,  and  his  imagination  kindled  into  a 
blaze.  The  result  was  a  poem  printed  in  a  thin 
pamphlet  of  twelve  pages,  and  bearing  the  follow 
ing  title :  — 

THE  EMBARGO; 
OR,  SKETCHES  OF  THE  TIMES. 

A  SATIRE. 
BY   A   YOUTH    OF   THIRTEEN. 

The  fiery  indignation  of  the  poet  flashes  out  at 
every  line,  but  fairly  flames  in  the  following  stan 
zas: — 

"  Satiric  Muse,  shall  injured  Commerce  weep 
Her  ravish'd  rights,  and  will  thy  thunders  sleep  ? 
Dart  thy  keen  glances,  knit  thy  threat'ning  brows ; 
Call  fire  from  heaven  to  blast  thy  country's  foes ! 
Oh  !  let  a  youth  thine  inspiration  learn ; 
Oh!  give  him*  thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that 
burn '  1 

Curse  of  our  nation,  source  of  countless  woes, 
From  whose  dark  womb  unreckon'd  misery  flows, 
Th'  Embargo  rages  like  a  sweeping  wind : 
Fear  lowers  before,  and  Famine  stalks  behind." 

The  impending  danger  of  the  nation  is  franti 
cally  pointed  out  in  the  following  climax  of  ter 
rors  :  — 

"  How  foul  a  blot  Columbia's  glory  stains ! 
How  dark  the  scene  !  —  infatuation  reigns ! 


36  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

For  French  intrigue,  which  wheedles  to  devour, 
Threatens  to  fix  us  in  Napoleon's  power ; 
Anon  within  th'  insatiate  vortex  whirl'd, 
Whose  wide  periphery  involves  the  world." 

The  Chief  Magistrate  does  not  escape  a  scath 
ing  at  the  hands  of  the  New-England  school-boy, 
who  addresses  him  in  this  vigorous  apostrophe :  — 

"  And  thou,  the  scorn  of  every  patriot  name, 
Thy  country's  ruin  and  her  council's  shame  ! 
Poor  servile  thing !  derision  of  the  brave ! 
Who  erst  from  Tarleton  fled  to  Carter's  cave ; 
Thou  who,  when  menac'd  by  perfidious  Gaul, 
Didst  prostrate  to  her  whisker'd  minion  fall ; 
And,  when  our  cash  her  empty  bags  supply'd, 
Didst  meanly  strive  the  foul  disgrace  to  hide,  — 
Go,  wretch !  resign  the  presidential  chair ; 
Disclose  thy  secret  measures,  foul  or  fair ; 
Go  search  with  curious  eye  for  horned  frogs 
Mid  the  wild  wastes  of  Louisianian  bogs, 
Or,  where  Ohio  rolls  his  turbid  stream, 
Dig  for  huge  bones,  thy  glory  and  thy  theme ; 
Go,  scan,  Philosophist,  thy  .  .  .  charms, 
And  sink  supinely  in  her  sable  arms ; 
But  quit  to  abler  hands  the  helm  of  state, 
Nor  image  ruin  on  thy  country's  fate." 

In  February,  1809,  the  embargo  was  removed ; 
but  President  Jefferson  was  not  so  accommodating 
as  to  "resign  the  presidential  chair,"  and  the 
Republic  soon  recovered  from  its  fright  at  the 
encroachments  of  Napoleon's  power.  The  satire, 
however,  had  evinced  the  presence  of  a  new  poet, 


THE   BOY-POET.  37 

whose  rhetoric  was  felt  and  admired  even  by 
those  who  did  not  entertain  his  sentiments.  "  The 
Monthly  Anthology,"  a  Boston  literary  journal 
owned  by  a  club  of  gentlemen  of  culture,  ques 
tioned  the  statement  that  the  poem  was  written 
by  a  boy  of  thirteen.  The  second  edition  of  "  The 
Embargo,"  therefore,  contained  an  advertisement, 
which  vindicated  the  author's  claims  in  the  follow 
ing  language :  — 

"  A  doubt  having  been  intimated  in  '  The  Monthly  An 
thology  '  of  June  last,  whether  a  youth  of  thirteen  years 
could  have  been  the  author  of  this  poem,  in  justice  to  his 
merits  the  friends  of  the  writer  feel  obliged  to  certify  the 
fact  from  their  personal  knowledge  of  himself  and  his  fam 
ily,  as  well  as  his  literary  improvement  and  extraordinary 
talents.  They  would  premise  that  they  do  not  come  un 
called  before  the  public  to  bear  this  testimony.  They 
would  prefer  that  he  should  be  judged  by  his  works,  with 
out  favor  or  affection.  As  the  doubt  has  been  suggested, 
they  deem  it  merely  an  act  of  justice  to  remove  it ;  after 
which  they  leave  him  a  candidate  for  favor  in  common  with 
other  literary  adventurers.  They  therefore  assure  the  pub 
lic,  that  Mr.  Bryant,  the  author,  is  a  native  of  Cummington, 
in  the  county  of  Hampshire,  and  in  the  month  of  Novem 
ber  last  arrived  at  the  age  of  fourteen  years.  These  facts 
can  be  authenticated  by  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  that 
place,  as  well  as  by  several  of  his  friends  who  give  this 
notice;  and,  if  it  be  deemed  worthy  of  further  inquiry,  the 
printer  is  enabled  to  disclose  their  names,  and  places  of 
residence. 

"  FEBRUARY,  1809." 


38  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

This  second  edition  afforded  another  proof  of 
the  writer's  ability  by  adding  a  few  of  his  earlier 
compositions,  including  "  The  Spanish  Revolu 
tion,"  "The  Reward  of  Literary  Merit,"  "  The 
Contented  Ploughman,"  and  a  translation  from 
the  odes  of  Horace. 

About  the  time  "  The  Embargo  "  was  first  pub 
lished,  Bryant  began  the  study  of  Latin  under 
the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Snell  of 
Brookfield.  At  that  time  there  were  few  classical 
schools  in  New  England,  and  a  preparation  for 
college  was  usually  secured  by  taking  private  les 
sons  ;  the  clergy  being  the  classical  teachers  in 
most  of  the  rural  districts.  A  year  later,  Greek 
was  added  to  his  studies,  under  the  tuition  of  the 
Rev.  Moses  Hallock  of  Plainfield.  He  was  so 
fond  of  this  noble  language,  that,  after  two  months' 
study,  he  had  read  the  entire  Greek  Testament. 

During  these  years  he  was  much  interested  in 
botany,  of  which  his  father  was  particularly  fond. 
Together  they  rambled  over  the  fields  in  pursuit 
of  rare  flowers,  analyzing  and  preserving  them 
with  scientific  enthusiasm. 

A  fondness  for  reading  grew  with  his  years,  and 
was  wisely  directed  by  his  father.  A  list  of  the 
books  for  boys  in  the  poet's  youth  has  been  given 
by  him  in  an  article  already  referred  to,  and, 
together  with  his  comments,  is  worth  inserting 
here :  — 


THE  BOY-POET.  39 

"For  the  boys  of  the  present  day  an  immense  number 
of  books  have  been  provided,  some  of  them  excellent,  some 
mere  trash  or  worse ;  but  scarce  any  are  now  read  which  are 
not  of  recent  date.  The  question  is  often  asked,  What 
books  had  they  to  read  seventy  or  eighty  years  since  ?  They 
had  books,  and  some  of  great  merit.  There  was  '  Sandford 
and  Merton,'  and  '  Little  Jack ; '  there  was  '  Robinson 
Crusoe,'  with  its  variations,  '  The  Swiss  Family  Robinson,' 
and  '  The  New  Robinson  Crusoe ; '  there  was  a  Mrs.  Trim 
mer's  '  Knowledge  of  Nature,'  and  Berquin's  lively  narra 
tives  and  sketches  translated  from  the  French ;  there  was 
'Philip  Quarll,'  and  Watts's  ' Poems  for  Children,'  and 
Bunyan's  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  Mrs.  Barbauld's  writ 
ings,  and  the  'Miscellaneous  Poems'  of  Cowper.  Later 
we  had  Miss  Edgeworth's  '  Parent's  Assistant '  and  '  Even 
ings  at  Home.'  All  these,  if  not  numerous,  were  at  least 
often  read  ;  and  the  frequent  reading  of  a  few  good  books  is 
thought  to  be  at  least  as  improving,  as  useful  in  storing  the 
mind,  and  teaching  one  to  think,  as  the  mere  cursory  read 
ing  of  many. " 

The  life  of  the  young  poet  was  by  no  means 
wholly  devoted  to  learning  and  literature.  The 
old-time  enjoyments  of  New  England  country  life 
were  mingled  with  his  serious  occupations.  On 
the  long  winter  evenings  the  schoolhouse  was 
filled  with  the  lads  and  lasses  of  the  neighborhood 
for  matches  in  spelling,  or  lessons  in  singing. 
"Huskings"  and  "  apple-parings "  had  not  gone 
out  of  fashion;  and  on  these  festive  occasions 
jokes  were  cracked,  stories  told,  and  tricks  per 
formed,  as  the  cider  cheered  the  robust  boys  and 


40  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

buxom  maidens.  But  the  poet  found  his  chief 
enjoyment  in»  solitary  rambles,  or  in  such  occupa 
tions  as  left  his  mind  free  for  quiet  musing. 
"  The  streams,"  he  says,  "which  bickered  through 
the  narrow  glens  of  the  region  in  which  I  lived, 
were  much  better  stocked  with  trout  in  those 
days  than  now ;  for  the  country  had  been  newly 
opened  to  settlement.  The  boys  all  were  anglers. 
I  confess  to  having  felt  a  strong  interest  in  that 
4  sport,'  as  I  no  longer  call  it.  I  have  long  since 
been  weaned  from  the  propensity  of  which  I 
speak;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  instinct 
which  inclines  so  many  to  it,  and  some  of  them 
our  grave  divines,  is  a  remnant  of  the  original 
wild  nature  of  man."  l 

When  Bryant  had  reached  his  sixteenth  year,  he 
was  found  to  possess  enough  knowledge  of  Latin 
and  Greek  to  admit  him  to  the  sophomore  class  in 
college.  Accordingly,  in  the  autumn  of  1810,  he 
was  sent  to  Williams  College,  at  Williamstown, 
Mass.  At  this  institution  he  seems  to  have  mani 
fested  little  that  attracted  attention,  or  foreshad 
owed  a  distinguished  career.  He  was  known  by 
his  professors  and  classmates  as  a  ready  and  in 
dustrious  student,  especially  fond  of  the  classic  lan 
guages  and  the  best  literature.  He  has  himself 
recorded  one  incident  that  illustrates  his  sensi 
bility  to  the  humorous.  Irving's  "  Salmagundi " 

1  St.  Nicholas,  December,  1876. 


THE   BOY-POET.  41 

appeared  while  he  was  in  college ;  and,  having 
committed  a  portion  of  it  to  repeat  as  a  declama 
tion  before  his  class,  he  was  so  overcome  with 
laughter  when  he  appeared  on  the  floor,  that  he 
was  unable  to  proceed,  and  drew  upon  himself  the 
rebuke  of  the  tutor. 

Though  exceedingly  modest  in  the  display  of 
his  poetical  gift  while  in  college,  he  once  recited 
an  original  poem  before  his  class,  and  was  com 
mended  for  it.  He  also  read  a  humorous  satire  on 
the  college  before  a  society  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  —  a  performance  at  which  he  afterwards 
often  smiled.  The  composition  was  never  printed, 
and  exists,  it  is  said,  only  in  the  memory  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Hallock,  a  son  of  Bryant's  private  instruc 
tor  in  Greek.  This  gentleman,  a  friend  of  the 
poet  and  of  the  college,  has  kept  it,  and  perhaps 
will  continue  to  keep  it,  in  this  secure  repository. 

At  the  end  of  his  second  term,  May,  1811,  Bry 
ant  determined  to  enter  the  junior  class  at  Yale 
College  at  the  beginning  of  the  fall  session,  and 
withdrew  from  Williams  with  an  honorable  dis 
missal.  The  venerable  Dr.  Calvin  Durfee  of  Wil- 
liamstown,  who  has  kindly  furnished  most  of  the 
facts  above  stated,  adds  that  Bryant  "  was  always 
scholarly  and  gentlemanly,  with  no  eccentricities 
—  no  shooting  forth  of  intellectual  powers  in  one 
direction,  to  the  neglect  of  other  important  quali 
fications  or  attainments  " 


42  LITE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

At  the  opening  of  the  next  session  he  was  pre 
pared  to  join  the  junior  class  at  Yale ;  but  the  al 
tered  fortunes  of  his  father  prevented  his  carrying 
out  his  plan.  He  remained  at  home  for  some  time, 
pursuing  those  classical  and  mathematical  studies 
which  he  had  hoped  to  take  under  the  instruc 
tion  of  professors. 

His  name  has  always  been  an  honored  one  at 
Williamstown.  In  1819  the  honorary  degree  of 
A.M.  was  conferred  on  him  by  the  college ;  and 
some  years  later  he  was  restored  to  his  place  in 
his  class,  and  enrolled  as  an  alumnus.  His  death 
is  noticed  in  the  obituary  records  of  the  college  as 
a  graduate  belonging  to  the  class  of  1813. 

During  these  years  of  study  his  pen  was  not 
idle.  Among  the  verses  composed  during  this 
period  are  "  The  Genius  of  Columbia,"  and  several 
Fourth-of-July  odes.  In  all  these  we  find  the 
patriotic  and  the  martial  spirit  most  conspicuous, 
with  no  attempt  to  sing  the  praises  of  Nature. 
"  The  Genius  of  Columbia  "  would  do  honor  to  an 
older  bard  than  the  sophomore  of  sixteen  who 
wrote  it.  Seated  on  her  "  throne  of  adamant  "  in 
"  the  regions  of  the  West,"  the  Genius  of  Colum 
bia  speaks  thus  to  Napoleon  in  the  presence  of  the 
nations :  — 

"  Go,  favored  son  of  Glory,  go ! 

Thy  dark  aspiring  aims  pursue  ! 
The  blast  of  domination  blow 
Earth's  wide-extended  regions  through  ! 


THE  BOY-POET.  43 

Though  Austria,  twice  subjected,  own 
The  thunders  of  thy  conquering  hand, 

And  Tyranny  erect  her  throne 
In  hapless  Sweden's  fallen  land  ; 

Yet  know,  a  nation  lives  whose  soul 

Regards  thee  with  disdainful  eye, 
Undaunted  scorns  thy  proud  control, 

And  dares  thy  swarming  hordes  defy. 

Unshaken  as  their  native  rocks, 

Its  hardy  sons  heroic  rise, 
Prepared  to  meet  thy  fiercest  shocks, 

Protected  by  the  favoring  skies. 

Their  fertile  plains  and  woody  hills 
Are  fanned  by  Freedom's  purest  gales, 

And  her  celestial  presence  fills 
The  deepening  glens  and  spacious  vales." 

Iii  1812  appeared  an  "  Ode  for  the  Fourth  of 
July,"  inspired  by  the  prospect  of  a  struggle  with 
Great  Britain,  in  which  the  poet  laments  the  haste 
to  "  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war,"  but  declares,  — 

"  Should  Justice  call  to  battle, 

The  applauding  shout  we'd  raise ; 
A  million  swords  would  leave  their  sheaths, 

A  million  bayonets  blaze. 
The  stern  resolve,  the  courage  high, 

The  mind  untamed  by  ill, 
The  fires  that  warmed  our  leader's  breast, 

His  followers'  bosoms  fill. 
Our  fathers  bore  the  shock  of  war : 

Their  sons  can  bear  it  still. 


44  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BllYANT. 

The  same  ennobling  spirit 

That  kindles  valor's  flame, 
That  nerves  us  to  a  war  of  right, 

Forbids  a  war  of  shame. 
For  not  in  Conquest's  impious  train 

Shall  Freedom's  children  stand; 
Nor  shall  in  guilty  fray  be  raised 

The  high-souled  warrior's  hand  ; 
Nor  shall  the  patriot  draw  his  sword 

At  Gallia's  proud  command." 

As  the  palpitating  verse  touches  the  name  of 
"  Gallia,"  the  hatred  for  Napoleon  stirs  the  poet's 
soul  almost  to  frenzy,  and  prompts  this  heated  ad 
juration  :  — 

"  No !  by  our  fathers'  ashes, 

And  by  their  sacred  cause, 
The  Gaul  shall  never  call  us  slaves, 

Shall  never  give  us  laws  : 
Even  let  him  from  a  swarming  fleet 

Debark  his  veteran  host, 
A  living  wall  of  patriot  hearts 

Shall  fence  the  frowning  coast : 
A  bolder  race  than  generous  Spain, 

A  better  cause,  we  boast." 

About  this  time  we  find  the  first  expression  of 
that  intimacy  with  nature  which  characterizes 
nearly  all  of  Bryant's  later  poetry.  While  still  a 
youth  in  college  or  at  home,  he  composed  the  first 
sketch  of  the  one  poem  by  which  he  is  best 
known,  and  doubtless  always  will  be,  —  "  Than- 


THE  BOY-POET.  45 

atopsis."  One  account  represents  the  scenes  of 
Williamstown  as  the  source  of  his  inspiration. 
"Local  tradition,"  says  a  writer  in  the  Bryant 
memorial  pamphlet,  "represents  him  as  actually 
composing  the  poem  while  seated  011  a  rock  in  a 
lovely  ravine  known  as  Flora's  Glen,  on  the  out 
skirts  of  Williamstown.  There  is  reason  to  sus 
pect  that  much  of  this  story  is  apocryphal,  and  the 
fact  that  the  rock  is  still  pointed  out  to  visitors  by 
way  of  proof  weighs  but  little  in  the  balance  of 
belief." 1  "  The  Bryant  Homestead  Book,"  proba 
bly  our  best  authority  in  the  matter,  tells  a  differ 
ent  story.  "  It  was  here  at  Cummington,"  runs 
the  record,  "  while  wandering  in  the  primeval 
forests,  over  the  floor  of  which  were  scattered  the 
gigantic  trunks  of  fallen  trees,  mouldering  for 
long  years,  and  suggesting  an  indefinitely  remote 
antiquity,  and  where  silent  rivulets  crept  along 
through  the  carpet  of  dead  leaves,  the  spoil  of 
thousands  of  summers,  that  the  poem  entitled 
4  Thanatopsis '  was  composed.  The  young  poet 
had  read  the  poems  of  Kirke  White,  which,  edited 
by  Southey,  were  published  about  that  time,  and 
a  small  volume  of  Southey's  poems ;  and  some 
lines  of  those  authors  had  kindled  his  imagination, 
which,  going  forth  over  the  face  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  globe,  sought  to  bring  under  one  broad  and 
comprehensive  view  the  destinies  of  the  human 

1  Bryant  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  20. 


46  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BKYANT. 

race  in  the  present  life,  and  the  perpetual  rising 
and  passing  away  of  generation  after  generation 
who  are  nourished  by  the  fruits  of  the  soil,  and 
find  a  resting-place  in  its  bosom." 

The  first  draught  of  the  poem  lay  among  the  poet's 
papers  for  nearly  five  years  before  it  was  brought 
to  light.  At  length,  one  day,  after  the  author 
had  left  home,  his  father  discovered  the  poem,  and 
said  to  a  lady  who  was  fond  of  poetry  that  he  had 
found  some  of  William's  verses.  The  lady  read 
them,  and,  as  she  looked  up  from  the  paper,  burst 
into  tears,  moved  by  the  sad  pathos  of  mortality 
as  pictured  in  the  lad's  solemn  lines. 

At  that  time  "The  North- American  Review," 
then  in  its  infancy,  published  poetry  as  well  as 
prose,  and  was  considered  the  literary  magazine  of 
the  day.  It  was  owned  and  managed  by  a  society 
of  young  men  of  talent,  who  called  their  organiza 
tion  "  The  North- American  Club."  Richard  Henry 
Dana  and  Edward  Tyrrel  Channing  were  then  act 
ing  as  editors.  The  poem  was  sent  to  Dana,  who 
was  surprised  at  the  genius  displayed  in  it,  and 
.seriously  questioned  its  being  the  composition  of 
an  American.  Before  accepting  it  for  publication, 
he  resolved  to  inquire  into  its  authorship.  The 
note  which  accompanied  the  poem  was  brief  and 
indefinite.  Having  heard  that  there  was  a  State 
senator  named  Bryant,  he  concluded  that  this 
gentleman  must  be  the  author.  Determined  to 


THE  BOY-POET.  47 

see  him,  he  proceeded  to  the  State  House,  where 
the  Senate  was  then  in  session,  and  inquired  for 
Senator  Bryant.  He  was  shown  a  tall,  dark, 
broad-shouldered  man  in  middle  life,  whose  ap 
pearance  had  so  little  of  the  poetical,  that  the 
editor  thought  it  useless  to  speak  to  him  of  the 
matter.  The  poem  was  published,  however,  in 
the  "  Review  "  for  September,  1817.  Some  years 
afterward,  when  Bryant  went  to  Cambridge  to  de 
liver  his  poem  "  The  Ages,"  Dana  mentioned  his 
father's  "  Thanatopsis,"  and  the  real  author  ex 
plained  the  case. 

Perhaps  there  is  not  in  the  history  of  literature 
a  better  illustration  of  the  slow  evolution  of  a 
poem.  As  published  in  the  "  Review,"  the  blank 
verse  is  introduced  by  the  following  stanzas,  which 
may  be  quoted  here,  as  they  are  omitted  from 
later  editions  of  the  poem :  — 

"  Not  that  from  life  and  all  its  woes 

The  hand  of  death  shall  set  me  free  ; 
Not  that  this  head  shall  then  repose 
In  the  low  vale  most  peacefully. 

Ah  1  when  I  touch  Time.'s  farthest  brink, 

A  kinder  solace  must  attend  : 
It  chills  my  very  soul  to  think 

On  that  dread  hour  when  life  must  end. 

In  vain  the  nattering  verse  may  breathe 
Of  ease  from  pain,  and  rest  from  strife : 

There  is  a  sacred  dread  of  death 
Inwoven  with  the  strings  of  life. 


48  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

This  bitter  cup  at  first  was  given 
When  angry  Justice  frowned  severe ; 

And  'tis  the  eternal  doom  of  Heaven, 

That  man  must  view  the  grave  with  fear." 

The  remainder  of  the  poem  consists  of  forty-nine 
lines,  instead  of  eighty-one  as  in  the  final  ver 
sion.  The  beautiful  conclusion  beginning,  "So 
live,  that  when  thy  summons  comes,"  was  added 
later.  Hardly  a  sentence  remains  unaltered.  Crude 
forms  of  expression  have  been  elaborated.  Puerile 
conceptions  have  been  expunged.  Noble  images 
have  been  introduced.  The  flow  of  the  verses 
has  been  rendered  more  musical.  Instead  of 

"  Take  the  wings 

Of  morning,  and  the  Borean  desert  pierce ; 
Or  lose  thyself  in  the  continuous  woods 
That  veil  Oregan,  where  he  hears  no  sound 
Save  his  own  dashings,"  — 

we  now  have,  — 

"  Take  the  wings 

Of  morning  ;  pierce  the  Barcan  wilderness  * 
Or  lose  thyself  in  the  continuous  woods 
Where  rolls  the  Oregon,  and  hears  no  sound 
Save  his  own  dashings."  — 

Instead  of 

"  Thousands  more 

Will  share  thy  destiny.     The  tittering  world 
Dance  to  the  grave.     The  busy  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  chases  as  before 
His  favorite  phantom,"  — 


THE  BOY-POET.  49 

we  now  read,  — 

«  All  that  breathe 

Will  share  thy  destiny.     The  gay  will  laugh 
When  thou  art  gone,  the  solemn  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  as  before  will  chase 
His  favorite  phantom." 

Though  art  has  heightened  the  coloring,  and 
smoothed  the  metre,  the  immortal  part  of  the 
poem  belongs  to  its  earliest  as  well  as  to  its  latest 
form.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  nothing  equal  to  it 
had  previously  been  written  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  It  was  not  only  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  in  art  for  the  poet's  fatherland,  but  part  of 
a  new  development  in  the  poetry  of  the  world. 
Years  afterward,  when  the  boy-poet  had  become  a 
silver-haired  veteran  in  song,  he  was  reminded  of 
the  fact  in  the  following  eloquent  language :  — 

"  When  you  came  into  the  world,  the  storm-spirits  were 
abroad  in  letters,  and  were  rising  in  number  and  power,  in 
spite  of  the  re-action  against  the  reign  of  terror.  Byron 
was  a  child  of  six  years,  and  Shelley  an  infant  of  two ; 
and  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  young  men  of  twenty-four, 
were  still  in  the  unrest  and  frenzy  of  radicalism,  and  had 
neither  found  each  other  nor  the  faith  and  love  that  so 
exalted  them  and  the  new  literature  which  they  founded. 
The  masters  of  German  literature,  Goethe  and  Schiller, 
were  friends  and  fellow-workers,  but  little  known  to  the 
great  world,  and  with  hardly  a  public  to  appreciate  them  in 
the  Germany  that  had  been  so  much  under  the  thought  as 
well  as  the  power  of  Frederick  the  Great.  Your  life  belongs 


50  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

to  the  great  record,  and  you  rank  with  the  spirits  of  light 
and  reconciliation  that  led  on  the  Renaissance  from  the 
night  of  bigotry  and  scepticism.  You  belong  to  the  goodly 
company  who  with  Wordsworth  and  his  fellows  opened  to 
men  the  life  of  Nature  and  the  truth  of  God."  l 

1  Dr.  Samuel  Osgood's  address  at  the  presentation  of  the 
Bryant  Vase. 


TEN  YEARS   AT  THE  BAB.  51 


CHAPTER  III. 

TEN  YEAES  AT   THE  BAB. 
1815-1825. 

"And  next,  in  a  hall  of  justice, 

Scarce  grown  to  manly  years, 

'Mid  the  hoary-headed  wranglers 

The  slender  youth  appears." 

r  order  to  state  connectedly  the  history  of 
"  Thanatopsis,"  we  have  passed  over  some 
facts  in  the  poet's  life  to  which  we  must  now 
recur. 

In  1812,  after  spending  some  time  at  home  in 
the  diligent  pursuit  of  knowledge  without  other 
than  parental  direction,  Bryant  began  the  study 
of  law.  He  pursued  his  legal  studies  for  nearly 
two  years  in  the  office  of  Judge  Samuel  Howe  of 
Worthington,  but  finished  them  with  the  Hon. 
William  Baylies  of  Bridge  water.  In  1815,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at 
Plymouth,  Mass. 

He  began  the  practice  of  his  profession  at  Plain- 
field,  not  far  from  Cummington.  It  was  during 


52  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLED  BRYANT. 

his  residence  in  this  place  that  he  wrote  the  lines 
"To  a  Waterfowl,"  —  the  best  known  of  his  earlier 
poems  after  "  Thanatopsis."  "  Like  the  other  pro 
ductions  of  its  author,"  says  a  friend  of  Bryant's, 
"its  conception  was  natural.  One  evening  he  saw 
a  wild-duck  flying  across  a  sky  of  marvellous 
beauty,  and  a  picture  of  the  Divine  Providence 
was  revealed  to  him.  Southey's  poem  '  Ebb-Tide  ' 
suggested  the  form  of  the  stanza;  and  his  genius 
wrought  the  elevated  and  tranquillizing  verses, 
which  were  published  in  'The  North-American 
Review.' " l 

In  1817,  having  found  Plainfield  too  small  an 
arena  for  his  ambition,  he  removed  to  Great  Bar- 
rington,  a  picturesque  village  situated  among  the 
noble  hills  of  Berkshire,  in  the  beautiful  valley  of 
the  Housatonic.  The  young  lawyer  is  still  re 
membered  by  a  few  of  the  older  inhabitants  as  an 
honorable,  industrious  recluse,  fond  of  books  and 
nature,  but  mingling  little  with  his  fellow-towns 
men.  He  would  take  long  rambles  in  the  fields 
and  groves,  and  return  laden  with  botanical  tro 
phies,  which  he  preserved  with  the  same  interest 
as  when  with  boyish  enthusiasm  he  accompanied 
his  father  on  similar  excursions.  Though  he  was 
a  constant  reader  of  the  best  general  literature, 
these  pursuits  were  not  allowed  to  interfere  with 
his  professional  engagements ;  and  he  was  regarded 
as  a  good  lawyer. 

i  Dr.  H.  N.  Powers,  in  Scribner's  Monthly,  August,  1878. 


TEN  YEARS   AT   THE   BAK.  53 

The  charming  verses  on  "  Green  River,"  written 
at  this  time,  reveal  the  subjective  side  of  these 
hours  of  communion  with  Nature.  Says  the  poet,  — 

"  When  breezes  are  soft,  and  skies  are  fair, 
I  steal  an  hour  from  study  and  care, 
And  hie  me  away  to  the  woodland  scene, 
Where  wanders  the  stream  with  waters  green." 

In  lines  not  very  flattering  to  the  court  litigants, 
from  whose  business  he  won  his  bread,  he  refers 
to  the  happy  freedom  of  his  childhood :  — 

"  Though  forced  to  drudge  for  the  dregs  of  men, 
And  scrawl  strange  words  with  the  barbarous  pen, 
And  mingle  among  the  jostling  crowd, 
Where  the  sons  of  strife  are  subtle  and  loud, 
I  often  come  to  this  quiet  place 
To  breathe  the  airs  that  ruffle  thy  face, 
And  gaze  upon  thee  in  silent  dream ; 
For  in  thy  lonely  and  lovely  stream 
An  image  of  that  calm  life  appears 
That  won  my  heart  in  my  greener  years." 

During  his  residence  at  Great  Barrington,  not 
withstanding  his  reference  to  "  the  dregs  of  men," 
Bryant  was  made  a  justice  of  the  peace  by  the 
citizens.  Among  the  earliest  acts  of  the  young 
justice  was  the  performing  of  a  marriage-ceremony 
under  somewhat  peculiar  circumstances.  A  prom 
inent  citizen  had  found  a  bride,  who,  like  himself, 
was  a  member  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church, 
and  believed  that  the  marriage-contract  could  not 


54  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

be  properly  sealed  by  a  minister  of  any  other  de 
nomination.  As  no  clergyman  of  their  church 
could  be  found  in  their  neighborhood,  they  pre 
ferred  a  civil  ceremony  to  the  services  of  a  dis 
senter.  Accordingly,  the  young  squire  was  re 
quested  to  tie  the  conjugal  knot. 

We  have  a  picture  of  the  poet  at  this  time  from 
the  pen  of  Miss  Catherine  M.  Sedgwick,  a  lady 
who  afterwards  became  distinguished  in  literature 
as  a  pure  and  graceful  writer,  and  for  the  refine 
ment  and  home-sentiment  of  her  sketches  and 
stories.  Writing  from  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  in  1820, 
she  says,  — 

"  I  sent  for  Mr.  Bryant  last  week,  and  he  called  to  see  me 
on  his  return  from  court.  I  told  him  Mr.  Sewall  had  com 
missioned  me  to  request  some  contributions  from  him  to  a 
collection  of  hymns ;  and  he  said,  \vithout  any  hesitation, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  Mr.  Sewall,  and  would  with  great 
pleasure  comply  with  his  request.  He  has  a  charming 
countenance,  and  modest  but  not  bashful  manners.  I  made 
him  promise  to  come  and  see  us  shortly.  He  seemed  grati 
fied  ;  and,  if  Mr.  Sewall  has  reason  to  be  obliged  to  me 
(which  I  certainly  think  he  has),  I  am  doubly  obliged  by 
an  opportunity  of  securing  the  acquaintance  of  so  interest 
ing  a  man." l 

While  at  Great  Barrington,  Bryant  met  and 
loved  Miss  Fanny  Fairchild,  a  lady  of  good  family, 
and  the  possessor  of  many  womanly  graces.  The 
poet's  nature  is  well  illustrated  in  his  love-making. 

1  Quoted  in  the  Bryant  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  19. 


TEN  YEAES   AT  THE  BAR.  65 

Here,  as  in  his  poetry,  the  Platonic  element  is  pre 
dominant.  Doubtless  no  love  was  ever  purer  than 
his,  or  more  lasting;  but  it  seems  to  have  been 
wanting  in  fervor  of  expression.  Several  of  his 
poems  were  prompted  by  the  lady  of  his  choice ; 
but  there  is  nothing  in  any  one  of  them  that  indi 
cates  that  passionate  fondness  which  is  common  in 
this  kind  of  poetry.  The  "  Song  "  in  which  the 
hunter,  lingering  beside  the  hill,  sees  the  dwelling 
of  his  Genevieve,  is  a  shy  commemoration  of  the 
poet's  own  love.  Mr.  Richard  H.  Stoddard  justly 
calls  it  "  chilly : "  for  though  "  oft  he  turns  his 
truant  eye,  and  pauses  oft,  and  lingers  near,"  the 
hunter  finally  bounds  away  through  the  forest  in 
pursuit  of  his  game;  which,  as  an  ardent  lover, 
he  ought  not  to  do. 

This  shyness  in  expressing  his  feelings  is  shown 
in  the  poet's  announcement  of  the  wedding,  when 
the  happy  pair  had  set  the  day  for  their  union. 
The  law  required  that  the  banns  be  thrice  read  in 
church  on  successive  Sundays  before  a  wedding 
could  take  place.  Being  himself,  at  the  time,  the 
town-clerk,  he  was  placed  in  the  embarrassing  posi 
tion  of  having  to  proclaim  his  own  nuptials.  For 
this  trying  ordeal  his  modest  nature  could  not 
muster  the  necessary  courage;  and  accordingly, 
instead  of  reading  the  banns  before  the  congrega 
tion,  he  wrote  out  the  notice,  and  posted  it  on  the 
church-door.  The  wedding  took  place  in  1821. 


56  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

Though  diffident  in  the  expression  of  his  love, 
it  was  not  misplaced.  For  more  than  forty  years 
the  happy  pair  journeyed  on  together,  mutually 
helpful  and  trustful.  The  poet  has  embalmed  the 
memory  of  his  wife's  purity,  devotion,  and  piety,  in 
"The  Future  Life  "  and  "  The  Life  that  Is ;  "  and 
finally  lamented  her  loss  in  the  touching  re  very 
dated  October,  1866. 

It  was  in  this  same  year  (1821)  that  Bryant 
was  invited  to  deliver  a  poem  before  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Society  of  Harvard  College  at  the  com 
mencement  anniversary.  His  previous  fame  had 
not  rested  upon  "  Thanatopsis  "  and  the  lines  "  To 
a  Waterfowl "  alone ;  for  during  his  residence  at 
Great  Barrington  he  had  contributed  a  number  of 
poems  to  "  The  United-States  Gazette,"  a  weekly 
magazine  then  published  in  Boston.  During  Mr. 
Dana's  editorship  of  "  The  North-American  Re 
view,"  Bryant  had  furnished  several  prose  articles 
to  the  pages  of  that  periodical.  In  July,  1818,  a 
paper  on  "  American  Poetry "  had  appeared,  in 
which  he  pointed  out  the  poverty  of  our  infant 
literature  in  the  department  of  verse.  In  June, 
1819,  he  had  contributed  an  essay  on  "  The  Happy 
Temperament,"  in  which  frivolity  was  shown  not 
to  be  the  source  of  true  happiness,  and  deeper 
springs  of  pleasure  were  indicated.  In  September 
of  the  same  year  he  had  made  a  critical  examina 
tion  of  trisyllabic  feet  in  iambic  verse,  proving  his 
acquaintance  with  the  technics  of  versification. 


TEN   YEARS   AT   THE   BAK.  57 

The  young  lawyer  appeared  at  Cambridge,  in 
response  to  the  invitation,  with  "  The  Ages,"  one 
of  the  longest  and  most  elaborate  poems  that  he 
ever  wrote ;  "  the  best  poem  of  the  kind,"  says 
Mr.  Richard  H.  Stoddard,  "  that  was  ever  recited 
before  a  college  society,  either  in  this  country  or 
in  England,  —  grave,  stately,  thoughtful,  present 
ing,  in  animated,  picturesque  stanzas,  a  compact 
summary  of  the  history  of  mankind."  It  has  the 
honor  of  standing  first  in  the  complete  editions  of 
the  poet's  works,  as  the  fittest  prelude  to  all  the 
poems  of  his  life. 

Soon  after  the  delivery  of  "  The  Ages  "  at  Har 
vard,  and  doubtless  on  the  strength  of  the  suc 
cess  of  that  performance,  the  author  published  at 
Cambridge  a  small  volume  of  his  poems.  In  a 
notice  of  this  collection  in  "  The  North-American 
Review,"  the  critic  begins  by  inquiring  after  the 
poet's  master :  "  Of  what  school  is  this  writer  ?  — 
the  Lake,  the  Pope,  or  the  Cockney,  or  some 
other  ?  Does  he  imitate  Byron  or  Scott,  or  Camp 
bell?  These  are  the  standing  interrogatories  in 
all  tribunals  having  the  jurisdiction  of  poetry, 
and  it  behooves  us  to  see  that  they  are  adminis 
tered.  He  is,  then,  of  the  school  of  Nature,  and 
of  Cowper,  if  we  may  answer  for  him ;  of  the 
school  which  aims  to  express  fine  thoughts  in 
true  and  obvious  English,  without  attempting  or 
fearing  to  write  like  any  one  in  particular,  and 


58  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

without  being  distinguished  for  using  or  avoiding 
any  set  of  words  or  phrases."  "  There  is  running 
through  the  whole  of  this  little  collection,"  con 
tinues  the  writer,  "a  strain  of  pure  and  high 
sentiment,  that  expands  and  lifts  up  the  soul,  and 
brings  it  nearer  to  the  source  of  moral  beauty. 
This  is  not  indefinitely  and  obscurely  shadowed 
out,  but  it  animates  bright  images  and  clear 
thoughts.  There  is  everywhere  a  simple  and  deli 
cate  portraiture  of  the  subtle  and  ever-vanishing 
beauties  of  Nature,  which  she  seems  willing  to 
conceal  as  her  choicest  things,  and  which  none  but 
minds  the  most  susceptible  can  seize,  and  no  other 
than  a  writer  of  great  genius  can  body  forth  in 
words.  There  is  in  this  poetry  something  more 
than  mere  painting.  It  does  not  merely  offer  in 
rich  colors  what  the  eye  may  see  or  the  heart  feel, 
or  what  may  fill  the  imagination  with  a  religious 
grandeur.  It  does  not  merely  rise  to  sublime 
heights  of  thought,  with  the  forms  and  allusions 
that  obey  none  but  master-spirits.  Besides  these, 
there  are  wrought  into  the  composition  a  humor 
ous  philosoplry  and  deep  reflection  that  make  the 
subjects  as  sensible  to  the  understanding  as  they 
are  splendid  to  the  imagination."  l 

The  war  for  the  deliverance  of  Greece,  which 
began  in  the  previous  year  (1820),  aroused  a  Hel 
lenic  spirit  in  the  poet,  and  occasioned  the  writing 

i  North-American  Review,  October,  1821,  pp.  380,  381. 


TEN   YEARS   AT   THE   BAR.  59 

of  "  The  Massacre  at  Scio,"  and  "  The  Song  of 
the  Greek  Amazon ; "  neither  of  which,  however, 
is  equal  to  the  spirited  Hellenic  verses  of  Fitz- 
Greene  Halleck.  Local  traditions  probably  sug 
gested  the  Indian  poems  which  were  written  in 
the  four  years  following,  including  "  The  Indian 
Girl's  Lament,"  "An  Indian  Story,"  " An  Indian 
at  the  Burial-place  of  his  Fathers,"  and  "Monu 
ment  Mountain."  The  last-named  noble  poem, 
the  poet  himself  tells  us,  had  its  origin  in  a  local 
tradition.  The  mountain  referred  to  in  the  poem 
is  a  bold  precipice  in  Great  Barrington,  below 
which  spreads  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic.  On 
the  brow  of  the  precipice  there  was  a  conical  pile 
of  small  stones,  erected,  it  was  said,  by  the  In 
dians,  in  memory  of  a  most  tragic  event.  The 
story  which  this  monument  commemorates  was 
related  to  a  friend  of  the  poet's  by  an  Indian 
woman  of  the  tribe  that  formerly  occupied  the 
mountain.  She  affirmed  that  an  Indian  girl  had 
fallen  in  love  with  her  cousin,  whom  the  laws  of 
her  tribe  forbade  her  to  marry.  After  suffering 
some  time  from  melancholy,  she  decked  herself 
gayly  as  for  a  festival,  and,  in  company  with  a 
female  friend,  proceeded  to  the  height.  Having 
passed  the  day  in  singing  the  songs  of  her  tribe, 
at  sunset  she  hurled  herself  from  the  rock,  and 
perished  in  the  fall. 

Though    other  themes   engaged   his   mind,  the 


60  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

charms  of  Nature  continued  to  touch  the  sweet 
est  chords  in  the  poet's  lyre.  "The  Rivulet," 
"March,"  "  Summer  Wind,"  "After  a  Tempest," 
"Autumn  Woods,"  "To  a  Cloud,"  the  "Song  of 
the  Stars,"  and,  noblest  symphony  of  all,  "  A  For 
est  Hymn,"  give  evidence  of  his  daily  worship 
in  "  God's  ancient  sanctuaries." 

The  delivery  of  "  The  Ages,"  and  the  publica 
tion  of  his  collected  poems,  attracted  considerable 
attention  to  Bryant  in  all  the  literary  circles  of  the 
country.  Among  other  commendatory  notices  of 
his  poetry  was  one  from  the  pen  of  Gulian  C. 
Verplanck,  a  leading  Knickerbocker  of  New  York, 
and  a  person  of  great  influence  in  social  and  lit 
erary  circles.  Mr.  Verplanck  was  a  frequent  vis 
itor  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Henry  D.  Sedgwick,  a 
substantial  man  of  scholarly  tastes,  who  had  gath 
ered  about  him  such  literary  friends  as  Cooper, 
Halleck,  Percival,  and  others  distinguished  in 
their  day.  Mr.  Sedgwick  made  his  summer  home 
at  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  not  far  from  Great  Barring- 
ton,  and  was  a  friend  and  admirer  of  Bryant's. 
The  feelings  of  this  coterie  are  revealed  in  a  letter 
from  Miss  Catherine  M.  Sedgwick,  written  from 
New  York  in  1822:  — 

"  We  have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  [says  this  lady]  from 
a  glimpse  of  Bryant.  I  never  saw  him  so  happy,  nor  half 
so  agreeable.  I  think  he  is  very  much  animated  with  his 
prospects.  Heaven  grant  that  they  may  be  more  than  real- 


TEX  YEARS   AT   THE  BAB.  61 

ized!  I  sometimes  feel  some  misgivings  about  it;  but  1 
think  it  is  impossible,  that,  in  the  increasing  demand  for 
native  literature,  a  man  of  his  resources,  who  has  justly  the 
first  reputation,  should  not  be  able  to  command  a  compe 
tency.  He  has  good  sense,  too,  good  judgment,  and  mod 
eration.  ...  He  seems  so  modest,  that  every  one  seems 
eager  to  prove  to  him  the  merit  of  which  he  appears  un 
conscious.  I  wish  you  had  seen  him  last  evening.  Mrs. 
Nicholas  was  here,  and  half  a  dozen  gentlemen.  She  was 
ambitious  to  recite  before  'Bryant.  She  was  very  becom 
ingly  dressed  for  the  grand  ball  to  which  she  was  going; 
and,  wrought  up  to  her  highest  pitch  of  excitement,  she 
recited  her  favorite  pieces  better  than  I  ever  heard  her,  and 
concluded  the  whole,  without  request  or  any  note  of  prepa 
ration,  by  'The  Waterfowl'  and  '  Thanatopsis.'  Bryant's 
face  'brightened  all  over,' — was  one  gleam  of  light ;  and,  I 
am  certain,  at  the  moment  he  felt  the  ecstasy  of  a  poet." l 

The  "  prospects "  here  referred  to  were  the 
abandonment  of  law,  and  the  adoption  of  literature 
as  a  profession.  They  were  not  realized  at  once ; 
but  the  group  of  friends  in  New  York  were  deter 
mined  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  bring  the  poet  to 
that  city.  In  1825  their  end  was  accomplished. 
Mr.  Sedgwick  and  Mr.  Verplanck  procured  a  po'si- 
tion  for  Bryant  as  associate  with  Henry  J.  Ander 
son  in  the  editorship  of  "  The  New- York  Review 
and  Athenaeum  Magazine,"  then  about  to  be  started. 
Wearied  with  the  routine  labors  of  the  law,  the 
poet  laid  aside  his  law-books,  and  removed  to  the 
metropolis,  to  embark  on  the  uncertain  waters  of  a 
literary  life. 

1  Quoted  in  the  Bryant  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  20. 


62  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BEYANT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LITEEAEY  LIFE  IN  NEW  YOEK. 
1825-1834. 

"  And  there,  'mid  the  clash  of  presses, 

He  plies  the  rapid  pen 
In  the  battles  of  opinion 
That  divide  the  sons  of  men." 

NEW  YORK  in  1825  was  not  a  literary  city, 
though  it  was  the  residence  of  some  men  of 
letters  who  occupied  a  conspicuous  place  in  the 
earlier  literature  of  our  country.  The  young 
Massachusetts  lawyer  found  himself  in  congenial 
society,  and  at  once  made  many  friends  among 
the  literati  of  the  day. 

Prominent  in  the  circle  to  which  Bryant  was 
introduced  as  a  welcome  addition  was  Gulian 
C.  Yerplanck,  —  a  true  Knickerbocker  by  descent 
and  in  his  veneration  for  the  old  Dutch  fathers. 
He  was  a  scholar,  a  lawyer,  a  politician,  a  pro 
fessor,  a  reformer,  a  philanthropist,  a  critic,  and 
an  antiquary.  At  the  time  when  Bryant  first  met 
him  he  had  been  a  member  of  the  New- York 


LITEBARY  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  63 

Assembly,  and  had  written  a  treatise  on  "The  Evi 
dences  of  Christianity."  He  was  afterward  a  mem 
ber  of  Congress,  and  a  prominent  actor  in  national 
politics.  As  a  Greek  scholar  he  had  few  equals 
in  this  country.  His  published  works  include  an 
"Essay  on  the  Doctrine  of  Contracts,"  and  an 
edition  of  Shakespeare.  The  most  striking  fact 
in  this  strangely  miscellaneous  career  is  that  he 
was  insignificant  in  nothing.  Learning,  character, 
and  industry  combined  to  make  him  prominent  in 
all  he  undertook.  He  is  a  distinguished  example 
of  what  the  persistency  of  the  Dutch  character, 
when  united  with  the  insight  of  the  English  mind, 
can  accomplish  in  the  practical  affairs  of  the  world. 
He  was  Bryant's  senior  by  eight  years. 

Fitz-Greene  Halle ck  is  known  to  every  school 
boy  as  the  author  of  "Marco  Bozzaris,"  and  by 
the  present  generation  of  readers  is  remembered 
for  little  else  besides  that  spirited  poem.  To  have 
composed  one  such,  however,  is  a  clear  title  to 
immortality.  Like  Gray,  whose  "  Elegy  "  is  the 
most  popular  poem  in  the  English  language,  he 
struck  a  chord  that  will  never  cease  to  vibrate. 
Born  in  Guilford,  Conn.,  four  years  earlier  than 
Bryant,  he  came  to  New  York  in  1813,  and,  when 
Bryant  first  met  him,  was  the  favorite  of  the  day 
in  literary  circles.  His  "  Fanny,"  published  in  1821, 
the  same  year  with  Bryant's  poem,  "  The  Ages," 
placed  him  first  among  his  countrymen  in  the 


64  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

ranks  of  graceful  satirists.  For  thirty-five  years 
(1828-1863)  he  wrote  nothing;  and,  when  at 
length  he  resumed  the  pen,  his  productions  showed 
no  growth.  From  a  poet  of  unusual  promise,  he 
lapsed  into  a  mere  conversationist;  but  so  bril 
liant  were  his  discourses,  that  they  compensated 
in  great  measure  for  the  silence  of  his  Muse. 
Few  besides  Coleridge  have  displayed  such  fasci 
nating  powers  of  conversation.  "If  there  had 
been  any  friend  to  take  note  of  what  he  said," 
writes  Bryant,  "  a  volume  of  his  pithy  and  pleasant 
sayings  might  have  been  compiled,  as  entertaining 
as  any  thing  of  the  kind  which  has  appeared  since 
Boswell's  Johnson."  His  method  of  composition 
was  peculiar.  His  poems  grew  as  he  walked  in 
the  fields,  or  mused  in  his  chair,  without  a  scrap 
of  paper  before  him.  He  conned  them  over  again 
and  again,  pruning  and  adding  till  they  were  as 
perfect  as  he  could  make  them ;  and  his  wonder 
ful  memory  registered  every  improvement  with  an 
infallible  accuracy.  The  result  of  this  long  elabo 
ration  was  imprinted  upon  his  mind  as  distinctly 
as  if  first  memorized  in  its  final  form.  As  he 
recited  these  verses  in  his  walks,  his  movements 
revealed  the  powerful  emotions  that  possessed  him, 
and  his  very  fingers  twitched  with  a  nervous 
sympathy.  When  he  entered  the  private  service 
of  the  millionnaire  John  Jacob  Astor,  as  a  confi 
dential  clerk  and  accountant,  his  duties  prevented 


LITERARY  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  65 

his  composing  in  his  favorite  manner,  and  he 
abandoned  the  Muse  altogether.  As  a  man  he 
was  lively  and  satirical,  fond  of  argument,  and  a 
defender  of  unpopular  causes.  Cheney,  the  artist, 
was  so  pestered  by  his  oddities,  that  he  said  to  the 
poet  after  a  few  sittings  for  a  portrait,  "I  have 
finished  your  likeness."  —  "  You  have  been  expe 
ditious,"  said  Halleck.  "Yes,"  replied  Cheney: 
"  I  put  it  in  the  fire  this  morning." 

During  the  winters,  James  A.  Hillhouse,  the 
dramatist,  resided  in  the  city,  and  was  a  frequent 
guest  in  Mr.  Sedgwick's  drawing-room.  He  had 
been  called  by  the  father  of  T.  B.  Macaulay  the 
most  accomplished  young  man  with  whom  that 
gentleman  was  acquainted.  The  publication  of 
the  drama  of  "  Hadad,"  in  the  year  when  Bryant 
first  met  Hillhouse,  had  placed  him  first  among 
the  playwrights  of  the  day.  His  position  among 
his  literary  associates  may  be  inferred  from  these 
lines  by  Halleck :  — 

"  Hillhouse,  -whose  music,  like  his  themes, 
Lifts  earth  to  heaven ;  whose  poet-dreams 
Are  pure  and  holy  as  the  hymn 
Echoed  from  harps  of  seraphim 
By  bards  that  drank  at  Zion's  fountains 
When  glory,  peace,  and  hope  were  hers, 
And  beautiful  upon  her  mountains 
The  feet  of  angel  messengers." 

James    Fenimore    Cooper,    the    novelist,    and 


66  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

James  Gates  Percival,  the  poet  and  geologist, 
were  often  in  the  city,  and  both  were  associates 
of  Bryant.  These  and  others  hardly  less  distin 
guished  had  founded  a  weekly  club,  of  which  Bry 
ant  has  given  us  a  sketch  in  his  memorial  ad 
dress  on  Cooper :  — 

"  Of  the  members  who  have  since  passed  away  were 
Chancellor  Kent,  the  jurist;  Wiley,  the  intelligent  and  lib 
eral  bookseller;  Henry  D.  Sedgwick,  always  active  in 
schemes  of  benevolence;  Jarvis,  the  painter,  a  man  of  infi 
nite  humor,  whose  jests  awoke  inextinguishable  laughter; 
De  Kay,  the  naturalist;  Sands,  the  poet;  Jacob  Harvey, 
whose  genial  memory  is  cherished  by  many  frie'nds.  Of 
those  who  are  yet  living  [1852]  was  Morse,  the  inventor  of 
the  electric  telegraph ;  Durand,  then  one  of  the  first  of  en 
gravers,  and  now  no  less  illustrious  as  a  painter;  Henry 
James  Anderson,  whose  acquirements  might  awaken  the 
envy  of  the  ripest  scholars  of  the  Old  World ;  Halleck,  the 
poet  and  wit;  Verplanck,  who  has  given  the  world  the  best 
edition  of  Shakespeare  for  general  readers;  Dr.  King,  now 
at  the  head  of  Columbia  College,  and  his  two  immediate 
predecessors  in  that  office.  I  might  enlarge  the  list  with 
many  other  names  of  no  less  distinction.  The  army  and 
navy  contributed  their  proportion  of  members,  whose  names 
are  on  record  in  our  national  history.  .  .  .  The  club  met  in 
the  hotel  called  Washington  Hall,  the  site  of  which  is  now 
occupied  by  part  of  the  circuit  of  Stewart's  marble  build- 
ing."1 

Such  was  the  society  in  which  the  poet  found 
himself  on  his  arrival  in  New  York ;  certainly  a 

i  Orations  and  Addresses,  p.  60. 


LITERARY   LIFE   IN   NEW   YORK.  67 

more  congenial  environment  than  the  court-scenes 
where  he  had  toiled  for  uthe  dregs  of  men." 

That  much  was  expected  of  the  new  review 
which  Bryant  was  to  assist  in  editing  is  evident 
from  the  following  greeting  by  William  Coleman 
in  the  editorial  columns  of  "  The  Evening  Post," 
soon  after  Bryant's  appearance  in  the  city :  — 

"  NEW- YORK  REVIEW  AND  ATHENAEUM  MAGAZINE.  — 
Yesterday  a  person  called  on  me  to  solicit  a  subscription  to 
a  periodical  work  under  this  title ;  and,  on  looking  at  the 
prospectus,  I  perceived  it  was  to  be  a  continuation  of  'The 
Atlantic  Magazine,'  to  be  conducted  by  Henry  James  An 
derson  and  William  Cullen  Bryant,  under  this  new  name. 
I  therefore  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  enroll  myself 
among  the  number  of  those  who  engaged  to  patronize  this 
undertaking.  We  have,  from  its  early  appearance,  taken  a 
more  than  common  interest  in  the  success  of  '  The  Atlantic 
Magazine,'  which  early  gave  promise  of  becoming  a  useful, 
able,  and  even  elegant  vehicle  for  the  improvement  of  lit 
erary  taste,  and  the  advancement  of  sound  doctrines  in  the 
science  of  political  economy,  and  of  just  and  acute  criti 
cism;  nor  have  our  expectations  been  disappointed.  We 
now  anticipate  still  additional  excellence  from  the  well- 
known  talents  of  the  gentleman  now  associated  with  the 
former  editor,  and  from  '  the  co-operation  (which  is  alluded 
to  in  the  prospectus)  of  several  gentlemen  amply  qualified 
to  furnish  the  departments  of  intelligence,  poetry,  and  fic 
tion.'  With  such  encouragement,  we  cannot  consent  to 
compound  for  any  thing  short  of  a  decided  superiority  in 
the  various  walks  of  letters.  If  it  is  what  it  ought  to  be, 
and  what  we  expect  it  will  be,  to  suppose  it  can  want  the 
most  liberal  and  indeed  splendid  patronage  would  be  a 
libel  on  the  more  refined  of  our  citizens." 


68  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

The  supposition  that  the  new  review  might  fail 
of  "  the  most  liberal  and  indeed  splendid  patron 
age  "  was  well  founded,  whether  the  editorial  in 
ference  be  justified  or  not.  Such  talent  as  that  of 
Bryant,  Halleck,  Dana,  and  Bancroft,  may  have 
been  in  demand  by  "  the  most  refined  of  our  citi 
zens  ; "  but  it  is  no  libel  to  say  that  these  were 
exceedingly  few.  The  day  for  periodical  literature 
of  any  kind  in  this  country  had  not  dawned,  and 
the  choice  few  alone  could  not  sustain  a  magazine 
such  as  Bryant  and  his  associate  offered  to  the 
public.  Accordingly,  on  the  17th  of  March,  1826, 
"  The  New- York  Review  and  Athenaeum  Maga 
zine  "  was  merged,  with  "  The  New-York  Literary 
Gazette,"  in  "  The  New- York  Literary  Gazette  and 
American  Athenaeum;"  which,  after  a  separate 
existence  of  three  months,  was  consolidated  with 
"  The  United-States  Literary  Gazette ;  "  t»nd  this, 
after  a  life  of  two  months,  was  absorbed  in  "  The 
United-States  Review."  Such  were  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  critical  magazines  in  the  infancy  of  our 
national  literature.  For  years  afterwards,  genius 
and  industry  combined  could  hardly  keep  the  edi 
torial  soul  and  body  together  in  this  field  where 
fortunes  are  now  annually  made. 

In  1825  Bryant  had  been  temporarily  employed 
on  "  The  Evening  Post ; "  and  in  1826,  after  the 
discontinuance  of  "  The  New- York  Review,"  he 
became  permanently  connected  with  that  journal 


LITERARY  LIFE  IN   NEW   YORK.  69 

as  assistant  editor,  though  continuing  to  edit  "  The 
United-States  Review"  in  conjunction  with  Charles 
Folsom  of  Cambridge.  This  last  enterprise  came 
to  an  end  in  a  year  after  it  was  undertaken,  and 
Bryant  adopted  journalism  as  the  profession  of  his 
life. 

"  The  Post "  became  a  leading  organ  of  the  Demo 
cratic  party,  and  in  1828  advocated  Andrew  Jack 
son  for  the  presidency.  It  enjoyed  a  reputation 
for  its  literary  character,  as  well  as  for  eminence 
in  politics,  which  made  it  a  favorite  with  the  aris 
tocratic  portion  of  the  party  of  whose  principles 
it  was  a  champion.  It  was  in  the  columns  of 
"The  Post"  that  the  celebrated  humorous  odes 
known  as  the  "  Croaker  Pieces  "  had  appeared  in 
1819.  They  were  written  by  Joseph  Rodman 
Drake.  "  One  afternoon  about  this  time,"  says 
Hudson,  "  there  was  a  group  of  young  men  stand 
ing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Park  in  New  York,  just 
after  a  shower,  admiring  a  magnificent  rainbow. 
'  If  I  could  have  my  wish,'  said  one,  '  it  would  be 
to  lie  in  the  lap  of  that  rainbow,  and  read  Tom 
Campbell.'  Immediately  another  of  the  group 
stepped  forward,  and  exclaimed,  '  You  and  I  must 
be  acquainted !  my  name  is  Drake.'  — 4  My  name,' 
said  the  other,  'is  Fitz-Greene  Halleck.'  Then 
and  there  Croaker  took  in  a  partner  in  the  pro 
duction  of  those  popular  satirical  odes,  and  the 
firm  became  publicly  known  as  '  Croaker  &  Co.' 


70  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CtJLLEN  BRYANT. 

They  created  a  great  deal  of  amusement,  and  were 
much  sought  after,  largely  increasing  the  circula 
tion  of  the  paper."  l 

Though  "  The  Post "  had  enriched  its  columns 
with  original  contributions  to  literature  which  any 
journal  of  to-day  might  be  happy  to  secure,  it  was 
not,  when  Bryant  began  to  write  for  it,  a  wews-paper 
in  the  modern  sense.  Nothing  can  better  impress 
us  with  the  immense  advances  of  society,  and 
of  journalism  in  particular,  than  a  comparison 
of  copies  of  the  same  journal  for  1825  and  1878. 
In  the  earlier  numbers  we  find  news  from  Albany 
regarding  the  session  of  the  Legislature,  printed 
five  days  after  the  transactions  recorded ;  extracts 
from  English  newspapers  nearly  a  month  old ;  de 
spatches  from  different  points  in  the  United  States 
dated  a  fortnight  earlier  than  the  paper;  adver 
tisements  of  cock-fights;  and  the  time-tables  of 
rapid  stage-lines  to  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  the 
West.  Bryant  lived  to  see  the  invention  of  the 
electric  telegraph,  the  wedding  of  the  continents 
by  submarine  cables,  and  the  organization  of  the 
Associated  Press.  His  appreciation  of  this  prog 
ress  he  more  than  once  expressed  in  his  own  felici 
tous  way.  His  speech  at  the  dinner  given  to 
Samuel  F.  B.  Morse  in  1868  is  a  vivid  presentation 
of  some  of  these  marvellous  changes  :  — 

1  Hudson's  History  of  Journalism,  p.  220. 


LITERARY  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  71 

"  Charles  Lamb,  in  one  of  his  papers,  remarks  that  a 
piece  of  news,  which,  when  it  left  Botany  Bay,  was  true  to 
the  letter,  often  becomes  a  lie  before  it  reaches  England. 
It  is  the  advantage  of  the  telegraph,  that  it  gives  you  the 
news  before  circumstances  have  had  time  to  alter  it.  The 
press  is  enabled  to  lay  it  fresh  before  the  reader.  It  comes 
to  him  like  a  steak  hot  from  the  gridiron,  instead  of  being 
cooled  and  made  flavorless  by  a  slow  journey  from  a  distant 
kitchen.  A  battle  is  fought  three  thousand  miles  away, 
and  we  have  the  news  while  they  are  taking  the  wounded 
to  the  hospital.  A  great  orator  rises  in  the  British  Parlia 
ment,  and  we  read  his  words  almost  before  the  cheers  of  his 
friends  have  ceased.  An  earthquake  shakes  San  Francisco, 
and  we  have  the  news  before  the  people  who  have  rushed 
into  the  street  have  returned  to  their  houses.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  Treatise  on  Bathos,  Pope  quotes,  as  a  sample  of 
absurdity  not  to  be  surpassed,  a  passage  from  some  play,  I 
think  one  of  Nat  Lee's,  expressing  the  modest  wish  of  a 
lover :  — 

'  Ye  gods,  annihilate  both  space  and  time, 
And  make  two  lovers  happy.' 

"  But  see  what  changes  a  century  brings  forth !  What 
was  then  an  absurdity,  what  was  arrant  nonsense,  is  now 
the  statement  of  a  naked  fact.  Our  guest  has  annihilated 
both  space  and  time  in  the  transmission  of  intelligence. 
The  breadth  of  the  Atlantic,  with  all  its  waves,  is  as  noth 
ing  ;  and,  in  sending  a  message  from  Europe  to  this  conti 
nent,  the  time,  as  computed  by  the  clock,  is  some  six  hours 
less  than  nothing."1 

For  the  first  three  years  of  his  connection  with 
"  The  Post "  Bryant  occupied  a  position  second  to 

1  Orations  and  Addresses,  p.  327. 


72  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

William  Coleman,  who — like  himself,  a  Massachu 
setts  barrister — had  founded  the  paper  in  1801. 
Dr.  J.  W.  Francis  has  given  the  following  interest 
ing  sketch  of  Coleman's  character  as  a  man  and 
as  a  journalist :  — 

"  Coleinan  was  a  writer  of  grammatical  excellence, 
though  occasionally  sadly  at  fault  in  force  of  diction. 
Under  the  influence  of  some  perverse  conceits,  he  would 
labor  for  months  to  establish  some  theoretical  doctrine,  or 
elucidate  a  useless  proposition.  He  would  underrate  the 
best  services  to  the  Republic,  if  rendered  by  a  political  op 
ponent.  Chancellor  Livingston  found  no  quarters  with  him 
for  his  instrumentality  in  the  Louisianian  purchase.  He 
would  ride  a  hobby  to  death.  It  was  hardly  in  the  power 
of  mortals  even  to  alter  his  opinion  when  once  formed. 
That  yellow-fever  was  as  contagious  as  small-pox,  that  skull 
cap  (the  scutellaria)  was  a  specific  for  hydrophobia,  that 
Napoleon  wanted  the  requisites  of  a  military  chieftain,  were 
among  the  crotchets  of  his  brain.  The  everlasting  tractates 
which  he  put  forth  on  these  and  other  subjects  would  in 
the  present  day  of  editorial  prowess  scarcely  be  tolerated  by 
a  chronicle  depending  on  public  patronage." 1 

At  this  time  "  annuals  "  were  in  fashion,  collec 
tions  of  poems  and  stories  of  a  select  order,  pre 
pared  especially  for  gift-books.  Such  an  annual, 
"  The  Talisman,"  appeared  for  three  years  (1827, 
1829,  1830),  edited  by  Bryant,  Verplanck,  and 
Robert  C.  Sands,  under  the  pseudonyme  of  Fran 
cis  Herbert,  Esq.  It  was  very  successful,  and 

1  Quoted  in  Hudson's  History  of  Journalism,  p.  221. 


LITERARY  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  73 

was  afterwards  issued  under  the  title  of  "  Miscel 
lanies."  1 

Sands,  with  whom  Bryant  was  associated  in  sev 
eral  enterprises,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  in  the  history  of  our  literature.  It  is  a  sad 
commentary  on  the  fate  of  genius,  that,  fifty  years 
after  his  death,  his  name  was  almost  unknown  to 
his  countrymen.  A  journalist  of  fine  ability,  a 
humorist  of  marked  originality,  a  poet  of  fruitful 
imagination,  and  withal  a  finished  classical  scholar, 
Sands  has  left  no  work  which  the  world  cares  to 
preserve.  In  1832  he  contributed,  with  Bryant, 
James  K.  Paulding,  William  Leggett,  and  Cathe 
rine  M.  Sedgwick,  to  a  miscellany  in  two  volumes, 
called  "  Tales  of  the  Glauber  Spa." 2  At  the  age 
of  thirty-three  he  was  engaged  in  writing  an 
imaginary  account  of  Esquimaux  literature,  and 
had  just  penned  the  line,  — 

"  Oh !  think  not  my  spirit  among  you  abides,"  — 

when  he  was  suddenly  attacked  with  apoplexy, 
and,  dropping  his  pen  at  the  end  of  the  ominous 
line,  fell  on  the  threshold  of  his  room,  and  expired 

1  Bryant's  prose  contributions  to  the  Talisman  were  An  Ad 
venture  in  the  East  Indies,  The  Cascade  of  Melsingah,  Recollec 
tions  of  the  South  of  Spain,  A  Story  of  the  Island  of  Cuba,  The 
Indian  Spring,  The  Whirlwind,  Phanette  des  Gaulemes,  and 
The  Marriage  Blunder. 

2  Bryant's  contributions  to  the  Tales  of  the  Glauber  Spa  were 
Medfield  and  The  Skeleton's  Cave. 


74  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

in  a  few  hours.     His  writings  were  collected  and 
edited  by  Bryant  and  Verplanck. 

In  1832  the  poems  of  Bryant  written  previously 
to  that  date  were  collected  in  a  volume,  and  pub 
lished  in  New  York.  A  copy  was  sent  by  Ver 
planck,  and  another  by  Bryant  himself,  to  Wash 
ington  Irving,  —  who  was  then  secretary  of  the 
American  legation  in  London,  and  looked  upon, 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  as  an  established 
writer, —  with  the  hope  that  he  might  assist  the 
poet  in  rinding  a  publisher  who  could  give  him  a 
favorable  introduction  to  the  British  public.  Be 
fore  the  day  of  publication  in  New  York,  Bryant 
addressed  the  following  letter  to  Irving :  — 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  29, 1831. 

SIR,  —  I  have  put  to  press  in  this  city  a  duodecimo 
volume  of  two  hundred  and  forty  pages,  comprising  all  my 
poems  which  I  thought  worth  printing,  most  of  which  have 
already  appeared.  Several  of  them,  I  believe,  you  have  seen ; 
and  of  some,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  you  have  been 
pleased  to  express  a  favorable  opinion.  Before  publishing 
the  work  here,  I  have  sent  a  copy  of  it  to  Murray,  the  Lon 
don  bookseller,  by  whom  I  am  desirous  that  it  should  be 
published  in  England.  I  have  taken  the  liberty  —  which  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  a  countryman  of  yours,  who  relies  on 
the  known  kindness  of  your  disposition  to  plead  his  excuse 
—  of  referring  him  to  you.  As  it  is  not  altogether  impossi 
ble  that  the  work  might  be  republished  in  England  if  I  did 
not  offer  it  myself,  I  could  wish  that  it  might  be  published 
by  a  respectable  bookseller  in  a  respectable  manner. 

I  have  written  to  Mr.  Verplanck,  desiring  him  to  give 


LITERAEY  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  75 

me  a  letter  to  you  on  the  subject ;  but,  as  the  packet  which 
takes  out  my  book  will  sail  before  I  can  receive  an  answer, 
I  have  presumed  so  far  on  your  goodness  as  to  make  the 
application  myself.  May  I  ask  of  you  the  favor  to  write  to 
Mr.  Murray  on  the  subject  as  soon  as  you  receive  this?  In 
my  letter  to  him  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  terms,  which  of 
course  will  depend  upon  circumstances  which  I  may  not 
know,  or  of  which  I  cannot  judge.  I  should  be  glad  to  re 
ceive  something  for  the  work ;  but,  if  he  does  not  think  it 
worth  his  while  to  give  any  thing,  I  had  rather  that  he  should 
take  it  for  nothing  than  that  it  should  not  be  published  by 
a  respectable  bookseller. 

I  must  again  beg  you  to  excuse  the  freedom  I  have  taken. 
I  have  no  personal  acquaintance  in  England  whom  I  could 
ask  to  do  what  I  have  ventured  to  request  of  you,  and  I 
know  of  no  person  to  whom  I  could  prefer  the  request  with 
greater  certainty  that  it  will  be  kindly  entertained. 

I  am,  sir,  with  sentiments  of  the  highest  respect, 
Your  obedient  humble  servant, 

WILLIAM  C.  BRYANT. 

P.S.  —  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  accompany  this  letter 
with  a  copy  of  the  work.1 

Irving,  with  his  habitual  kindness,  undertook 
the  commission  for  his  countryman,  whom  at  that 
time  he  had  never  met.  He  addressed  a  note  to 
Mr.  Murray,  and  received  the  following  reply 
from  his  son :  — 

ALBEMARLE  STREET,  Jan.  30. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  Mr.  Bryant's  volume  of  poems  has  not 
yet  made  its  appearance,  though  I  believe  it  is  on  its  way. 

1  This  correspondence  is  taken  from  the  Life  and  Letters  of 
Washington  Irving. 


76  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Knowing  as  I  do  my  father's  antipathy  to  every  thing  in 
the  shape  of  poetry  of  the  present  day,  I  doubt  whether  he 
will  be  disposed  to  publish  it.  If  so,  I  will  forward  the 
volume  to  you  when  it  comes  to  hand. 

Very  truly  yours, 

J.  MURRAY. 

Further  conference  with  "the  prince  of  pub 
lishers,"  who  was  at  the  time  in  embarrassed  cir 
cumstances,  made  it  evident  that  nothing  could  be 
done  for  Bryant  in  this  quarter.  Here  Irving's 
commission  properly  ended ;  but  his  generosity 
led  him  a  step  farther,  and  involved  him  in  trouble 
as  a  result.  He  carried  the  volume  to  Mr.  An 
drews,  a  fashionable  bookseller,  and  induced  him 
to  reprint  it,  on  the  condition  that  he  himself 
should  write  a  dedication,  and  edit  the  poems. 
The  compositors  had  proceeded  as  far  as  "  The 
Song  of  Marion's  Men,"  beginning,  — 

"  Our  band  is  few,  but  true  and  tried ; 

Our  leader  frank  and  bold : 
The  British  soldier  trembles 
When  Marion's  name  is  told." 

Andrews  at  once  beheld  in  imagination  an 
indignant  public  protesting  against  this  slur  on 
British  courage,  and  saw  his  investment  vanish 
into  thin  air  as  he  read  the  luckless  lines.  He 
posted  in  hot  haste  to  Irving's  rooms,  and  pointed 
out  the  offensive  passage.  He  demanded  an 


LITERARY  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  77 

alteration,  a  substitution  either  for  the  word 
44  British,"  or  "  trembles."  Irving  saw  no  escape 
from  compliance,  and  amended  the  third  line  so 
as  to  spoil  the  metre,  and  make  it  read,  — 

"  And  the  foeman  trembles  in  his  camp." 

For  this  act,  prompted  by  generosity,  he  was 
afterwards  severely  attacked  by  one  of  Bryant's 
editorial  associates,  as  related  in  the  sketch  of 
Irving's  life  in  the  series  to  which  this  book  be 
longs. 

Irving  addressed  the  dedication  to  Samuel 
Rogers  the  poet,  expressing  a  warm  appreciation 
of  Bryant's  genius.  In  characterizing  the  poems, 
he  says,  "They  transport  us  into  the  depths  of 
the  solemn  primeval  forest,  to  the  shores  of  the 
lonely  lake,  the  banks  of  the  wild,  nameless  stream, 
or  the  brow  of  the  rocky  upland,  rising  like  a 
promontory  from  amidst  a  wide  ocean  of  foliage ; 
while  they  shed  around  us  the  glory  of  a  climate 
fierce  in  its  extremes,  but  splendid  in  all  its  vicis 
situdes.  His  close  observation  of  the  phenomena 
of  Nature,  and  the  graphic  felicity  of  his  details, 
prevent  his  descriptions  from  ever  becoming  gen 
eral  and  commonplace;  while  he  has  the  gift  of 
shedding  over  them  a  pensive  grace  that  blends 
them  all  into  harmony,  and  of  clothing  them  with 
moral  associations  that  make  them  speak  to  the 
heart.  Neither,  I  am  convinced,  will  it  be  the 


78  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

least  of  his  merits  in  your  eyes  that  his  writings 
are  imbued  with  the  independent  spirit  and  buoy 
ant  aspirations  incident  to  a  youthful,  a  free,  and 
a  rising  country."  * 

Although  his  associate  Leggett  was  bitter  in 
his  attack  upon  Irving,  Bryant  himself  did  not 
share  the  feeling  of  resentment  toward  his  kind 
friend  for  the  unwise  alteration  of  the  troublesome 
line.  His  gratitude  was  soon  expressed  in  the 
following  letter  to  Irving  :  — 

NEW  YORK,  April  24,  1832. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  received  a  copy  of  the  London 
edition  of  my  poems  forwarded  by  you.  I  find  it  difficult  to 
express  the  sense  I  entertain  of  the  obligation  you  have  laid 
me  under  by  doing  so  much  more  for  me  in  this  matter 
than  I  could  have  ventured,  under  any  circumstances,  to 
expect.  Had  your  kindness  been  limited  to  procuring  the 
publication  of  the  work,  I  should  still  have  esteemed  the 
favor  worthy  of  my  particular  acknowledgment;  but  by 
giving  it  the  sanction  of  your  name,  and  presenting  it  to  the 
British  public  with  a  recommendation  so  powerful  as  yours 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  I  feel  that  you  have  done  me 
an  honor  in  the  eyes  of  my  countrymen  and  of  the  world. 

It  is  said  that  you  intend  shortly  to  visit  this  country. 
Your  return  to  your  native  land  will  be  welcomed  with  en 
thusiasm,  and  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  make  my  acknowl 
edgments  in  person. 

I  am,  sir,  very  sincerely  yours, 

WM.  C.  BRYANT. 

The  poems  were  favorably  received   in   Great 

i  Life  and  Letters,  vol.  ii.  pp.  476,  477. 


LITEKAKY  LIFE  IN  NEW   YOKK.  79 

Britain,  where  Bryant  has  since  been  regarded  by 
high  authorities  as  the  sweetest  of  American  sing 
ers,  though  not  so  widely  read  as  several  of  his 
countrymen.  John  Wilson  said  in  a  review  of 
the  volume,  "His  poetry  overflows  with  natural 
religion ;  with  what  Wordsworth  calls  '  the  religion 
of  the  woods.'  ...  It  is  indeed  in  the  beautiful 
that  the  genius  of  Bryant  finds  its  prime  delight. 
He  ensouls  all  dead,  insensate  things  in  that  deep 
and  delicate  sense  of  their  seeming  life  in  which 
they  breathe  and  smile  before  the  eyes  '  that  love 
all  they  look  upon ; '  and  thus  there  is  animation 
and  enjoyment  in  the  heart  of  the  solitude." l 

In  America  the  volume  was  still  more  highly 
praised;  and  ever  since,  even  during  Bryant's 
long  periods  of  silence,  and  to  thousands  who  have 
read  little  of  his  verse,  the  tradition  of  his  great 
ness  has  been  a  source  of  pride.  "  Others  before 
him,"  said  a  critic  of  that  day,  "have  sung  the 
beauties  of  creation,  and  the  greatness  of  God ; 
but  no  one  ever  observed  external  things  more 
closely,  or  transferred  his  impressions  to  paper  in 
more  vivid  colors.  A  violet  becomes,  in  his  hands, 
a  gem  fit  to  be  placed  in  an  imperial  diadem ;  a 
mountain  leads  his  eyes  to  the  canopy  above  it. 
On  the  whole,  we  may  pronounce  the  book  before 
us  the  best  volume  of  American  poetry  that  has 
yet  appeared.  The  publication  of  such  a  volume 

i  Blackwood's  Magazine,  April,  1332,  p.  646. 


80  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

is  an  important  event  in  our  literature.  We 
have  been  too  much  in  the  habit  of  looking  abroad 
for  examples  and  models ;  and  our  poets,  gen 
erally,  have  had  the  usual  fortune  of  imitators,  — 
their  copies  have  fallen  short  of  the  originals."  1 

On  the  death  of  Coleman,  in  1829,  Bryant  had 
become  the  editor-in-chief  of  "  The  Post,"  —  a 
position  which  he  retained  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
through  a  period  of  almost  fifty  years.  He  se 
cured  as  his  principal  assistant  William  Leggett, 
an  able  but  indiscreet  writer,  who  had  just  failed 
in  the  conduct  of  a  weekly  paper  called  "  The 
Critic ; "  that  periodical  having  expired  for  want 
of  support  after  six  months  of  "  life's  fitful  fever." 
Though  Leggett  had  stipulated,  when  he  became 
connected  with  "  The  Post,"  that  he  should  not  be 
asked  to  write  political  articles,  in  less  than  a  year 
he  became,  under  the  instruction  of  his  chief,  an 
ardent  Democrat,  pointing  his  pen  for  free  trade, 
and  opposing  with  vehemence  the  United-States 
Bank. 

Having  schooled  his  disciple  in  the  doctrines 
which  he  proposed  to  maintain,  and  feeling  the 
need  of  relaxation,  Bryant  determined  to  visit 
Europe.  Leaving  the  conduct  of  the  paper  to  his 
assistant,  he  sailed  for  Havre  with  his  family  in 
the  summer  of  1834. 


1  W.  J.  Snelling  in  The  North-American  Review,  April,  1832, 
p.  502. 


A  VISIT   TO  EUROPE.  81 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  VISIT  TO  EUROPE. 
1834-1836. 

"  I  look,  and  the  clashing  presses, 

And  the  town,  are  seen  no  more; 
But  there  is  the  poet  wandering 
A  strange  and  foreign  shore." 

PT^HE  first  characteristic  of  Europe  that  im- 
»*»  pressed  the  American  poet  when  he  landed 
in  France  was  the  prevailing  shadow  of  antiquity 
that  rested  upon  every  object  that  met  his  view. 
Customs,  dwellings,  churches,  arches,  towers,  and 
battlements  all  seemed  venerable  heirlooms  of  a 
past  unknown  in  his  own  country :  and  "  the  very 
hills  about  them,"  he  declared,  "  looked  scarcely  as 
old ;  for  there  was  youth  in  their  vegetation,  their 
shrubs  and  flowers."  If  the  Old  World  bore  the 
marks  of  age  for  the  poet,  her  people  presented  a 
new  phase  of  life  to  the  hard-working  editor,  fresh 
from  the  toils  and  struggles  of  an  American  city, 
where  existence  was  a  sober  and  earnest  pursuit 
of  wealth  and  power.  The  gayety  of  the  French 


82  LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

people  was  a  marvel  to  him.  "  The  Parisian,"  he 
writes  from  Paris,  "has  his  amusements  as  regu 
larly  as  his  meals,  —  the  theatre,  music,  the  dance, 
a  walk  in  the  Tuileries,  a  refection  in  the  cafe*,  to 
which  ladies  resort  as  commonly  as  the  other  sex. 
Perpetual  business,  perpetual  labor,  is  a  thing  of 
which  he  seems  to  have  no  idea.  I  wake  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  and  I  hear  the  fiddle  going, 
and  the  sound  of  feet  keeping  time,  in  some  of  the 
dependencies  of  the  large  building  near  the  Tuile 
ries,  in  which  I  have  my  lodgings." 

It  is  the  fresh,  strong  nationality  of  his  feelings, 
united  with  his  habits  of  close  observation,  that 
makes  Bryant  an  interesting  traveller.  His  letters 
written  to  "  The  Post,"  and  ultimately  published  in 
a  volume,  were  eagerly  read  by  thousands  as  they 
appeared  in  the  columns  of  that  journal.  He  has, 
however,  carefully  avoided  giving  what  would  now 
be  one  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  his  life, 
—  an  account  of  his  interviews  with  various  dis 
tinguished  persons  whose  society  he  enjoyed,  and 
opinions  of  their  character.  He  alleges  as  a  rea 
son  for  the  omission  of  personal  details,  his  un 
willingness  to  give  offence  by  making  public  that 
which  he  had  learned  in  private,  —  a  somewhat 
remarkable  modesty  in  a  journalist,  whose  pros 
perity  irf  modern  times  is  so  often  dependent  upon 
the  services  of  Paul  Pry. 

No  one  who  is  in  pursuit  of  thrilling  incidents 


A   VISIT   TO   EUROPE.  83 

merely,  or  who  seeks  mainly  for  humorous  adven 
tures,  will  care  to  read  Bryant's  sketches  of  travel. 
They  derive  their  chief  value  from  their  independ 
ent  criticism  of  foreign  institutions,  their  graphic 
description  of  natural  scenery,  the  original  reflec 
tions,  interspersed  with  statements  of  fact,  and  the 
clear,  transparent  diction  in  which  they  are  ex 
pressed.  There  is  little  of  that  glowing  enthusi 
asm  and  picturesque  delineation  that  are  so  con 
spicuous  in  the  travels  of  Bayard  Taylor,  and 
nothing  of  the  mock-sentimental  hyperbolism  that 
has  made  Mark  Twain's  books  so  popular.  Bryant 
sees  with  the  keen  and  accurate  eye  of  an  inde 
pendent  seeker  of  truth,  but  is  neither  an  enthusi 
ast  nor  a  humorist. 

After  remaining  some  weeks  in  Paris,  where  he 
arrived  in  August,  he  set  out  for  Florence.  His 
description  of  his  journey  from  the  French  capital 
to  Chalons,  on  the  Saone,  may  serve  at  once  to 
illustrate  his  descriptive  style,  and  some  of  his 
qualities  as  an  observer :  — 

"  Monotonous  plains,  covered  with  vineyards  and  wheat- 
fields,  with  veiy  few  trees,  and  those  spoiled  by  being  lopped 
for  fuel ;  sunburnt  women,  driving  carts,  or  at  work  in  the 
fields  ;  gloomy,  cheerless-looking  towns,  with  narrow,  filthy 
streets;  troops  of  beggars  surrounding  your  carriage  when 
ever  you  stop,  or  whenever  the  nature  of  the  roads  obliges 
the  horses  to  walk,  and  chanting  their  requests  in  the  most 
doleful  whine  imaginable,  —  such  are  the  sights  and  sounds 
that  meet  you  for  the  greater  part  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 


84  LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BEY  ANT. 

miles.  There  are,  however,  some  exceptions  as  to  the  aspect 
of  the  country.  Autun,  one  of  the  most  ancient  towns  in 
France,  and  yet  retaining  some  remains  of  Roman  architect 
ure,  lies  in  a  beautiful  and  picturesque  region.  A  little 
beyond  that  town  we  ascended  a  hill  by  a  road  winding 
along  a  glen,  the  rocky  sides  of  which  were  clothed  with  an 
unpruned  wood ;  and  a  clear  stream  ran  dashing  over  the 
stones,  now  on  one  side  of  the  road,  and  then  on  the  other,  — 
the  first  instance  of  a  brook  left  to  follow  its  natural  channel 
which  I  had  seen  in  France.  Two  young  Frenchmen,  who 
were  our  fellow-passengers,  were  wild  with  delight  at  this 
glimpse  of  unspoiled  nature.  They  followed  the  meander- 
ings  of  the  stream,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  shouting 
till  the  woods  rang  again."  l 

The  voyage  down  the  Saone  to  Lyons  is  an  in 
stance  of  the  inconveniences  of  European  travel  in 
those  days.  The  passengers  were  crowded  into  a 
narrow,  dirty  cabin,  with  benches  on  the  sides,  and 
a  long  table  in  the  middle,  at  which  some  noisy 
Frenchmen  were  seated,  with  their  hats  on,  en 
gaged  in  playing  cards,  and  eating,  while  the  rain 
dripped  through  the  cracks  in  the  deck  upon  the 
heads  of  the  wretched  travellers.  From  Lyons, 
resonant  with  the  clatter  of  silk-looms,  and  beau 
tiful  for  situation,  the  journey  was  made  to  Mar 
seilles  by  land,  affording  excellent  opportunity  to 
examine  the  vestiges  of  the  old  Roman  civilization 
of  Southern  Gaul.  The  remainder  of  the  journey 
also  was  made  by  land,  through  the  wild  mouii- 

i  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  pp.  16,  17. 


A  VISIT   TO  EUEOPE.  85 

tains  that  skirt  the  Mediterranean,  past  Nice,  fa 
mous  for  fruits  and  mosquitoes,  and  Genoa,  the 
city  of  narrow  streets  and  pale  ladies,  to  Florence, 
which  was  reached  on  the  12th  of  September. 

The  poverty,  oppression,  and  corruption  which 
the  traveller  had  seen  in  his  journey  provoked  a 
comparison  of  the  social  institutions  of  France  and 
Italy  with  those  of  his  own  land ;  and  the  follow 
ing  conclusion  was  the  result  of  his  reflections :  — 

"  I  think  I  shall  return  to  America  even  a  better  patriot 
than  when  I  left  it.  A  citizen  of  the  United  States,  travel 
ling  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  finds  the  contrast  between 
a  government  of  power  and  a  government  of  opinion  forced 
upon  him  at  every  step.  He  finds  himself  delayed  at  every 
large  town,  and  at  every  frontier  of  a  kingdom  or  principal 
ity,  to  submit  to  a  strict  examination  of  the  passport  with 
which  the  jealousy  of  the  rulers  of  these  countries  has  com 
pelled  him  to  furnish  himself.  He  sees  everywhere  guards 
and  sentinels  armed  to  the  teeth,  stationed  in  the  midst  of 
a  population  engaged  in  their  ordinary  occupations  in  a  time 
of  profound  peace ;  and,  to  supply  the  place  of  the  young 
and  robust  thus  withdrawn  from  the  labors  of  agriculture, 
he  beholds  women  performing  the  work  of  the  fields.  .  .  . 
No  American  can  see  how  much  jealousy  and  force  on  the 
one  hand,  and  necessity  and  fear  on  the  other,  have  to  do 
with  keeping  up  the  existing  governments  of  Europe,  with 
out  thanking  Heaven  that  such  is  not  the  condition  of  his 
own  country."  l 

Bryant's  quarters  in  Florence  overlooked  the 
bridge  of  the  Arno  from  which  one  of  Cole's  finest 

1  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  23. 


86  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BEYANT. 

landscapes  had  been  taken,  and  the  poet  testified 
to  the  artist's  fidelity  to  nature.  Few  could  enjoy 
more  fully  the  rich  Italian  scenery  spread  about 
him  on  every  side ;  but  his  independence  of  judg 
ment  was  not  lost  under  the  witching  influence  of 
skies  for  which  tradition  has  claimed  a  beauty 
beyond  what  is  native  to  them.  "There  is  a  great 
deal  of  prattle,"  he  says,  "  about  Italian  skies.  The 
skies  and  clouds  of  Italy,  so  far  as  I  have  had  an 
opportunity  of  judging,  do  not  present  so  great  a 
variety  of  beautiful  appearances  as  our  own;  but 
the  Italian  atmosphere  is  far  more  uniformly  fine 
than  ours."  Had  an  American  merchant  ven 
tured  this  frank  opinion,  his  sensibility  to  sesthetic 
effects  might  be  questioned.  While  the  remark 
has  force  as  the  dictum  of  Nature's  own  laureate, 
it  reveals  one  source  of  his  power  as  a  poet.  "  He 
is  original,"  says  Emerson,  "  because  he  is  sincere, 
—  a  true  painter  of  the  face  of  this  country,  and  of 
the  sentiment  of  his  own  people.  It  is  his  proper 
praise,  that  he  first,  and  he  only,  made  known  to 
mankind  our  Northern  landscape,  —  its  summer 
splendor,  its  autumn  russet,  its  winter  lights  and 
glooms." 

He  regarded  with  disfavor  the  encroachments 
upon  the  domain  of  Nature  which  art  and  civiliza 
tion  had  made  on  every  side  in  Italy.  "  Not  a 
tree,"  he  complains,  "  is  suffered  to  retain  its  natu 
ral  shape,  not  a  brook  to  flow  in  its  natural  chan- 


A   VISIT   TO   EUKOPE.  87 

nel.  An  exterminating  war  is  carried  on  against 
the  natural  herbage  of  the  soil.  The  country  is 
without  woods  and  green  fields."  He  misses  with 
sadness  many  charms  that  belong  to  American 
landscapes,  and  laments  that  there  is  "no  fine 
sweep  of  forest,"  "  no  broad  expanse  of  meadow ;  " 
that  there  are  "  no  ancient  and  towering  trees 
clustering  about  the  villas,"  "no  rows  of  natural 
shrubbery  following  the  course  of  the  brooks  and 
rivers:"  but  he  glories  in  the  grander  features 
of  the  landscape,  —  "  the  lofty  mountain-summits, 
bare  precipices  cleft  with  chasms,  and  pinnacles  of 
rock  piercing  the  sky."  It  is  pleasing  to  find  an 
American  traveller  who  is  brave  enough,  amid  the 
beauties  of  a  classic  land,  to  assert  the  superior 
beauties  of  his  own ;  and  it  is  doubly  pleasing 
when  he  can  point  out  in  detail  the  specific  grounds 
of  his  claim. 

Late  in  the  autumn  he  proceeded  to  Pisa,  "  the 
very  seat  of  idleness  and  slumber,"  affording  the 
most  decided  contrast  with  gay  and  bustling  Flor 
ence.  Having  procured  a  passport  for  the  journey 
from  Florence  to  Pisa,  he  presented  himself  at  the 
gate,  to  depart,  an  hour  later  than  the  designated 
time,  and  was  informed  that  his  passport  was  not 
regular,  and  he  must  be  detained.  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  the  passport?"  was  the  eager  question. 
"  The  vise  is  of  more  than  three  days'  standing," 
was  the  answer.  The  traveller  pleaded  in  vain  that 


88  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

an  hour  could  make  little  difference.  The  officer 
maintained  that  the  law  would  not  suffer  him  to 
accept  the  passport.  The  traveller  jingled  some 
coins  in  his  pocket,  and  the  officer  became  compas 
sionate.  "Your  case  is  a  hard  one,"  said  the  guard. 
"  I  suppose  you  are  desirous  to  get  on."  The  trav 
eller  urged  the  matter ;  and  the  officer  remarked 
to  a  companion,  that  the  party  seemed  to  be  decent 
people.  Finally  the  passport  was  returned  by  the 
officer,  with  the  statement  that  he  was  risking  the 
loss  of  his  place,  and  five  days'  imprisonment. 
A  few  coins  slipped  into  his  hand  concluded  the 
transaction,  and  Bryant's  party  passed  on  their 
way  in  silence.  On  reaching  Pisa,  he  entered  the 
city,  to  his  surprise,  without  detention,  or  any 
examination  of  his  baggage,  though  it  contained 
dutiable  articles.  It  was  afterwards  explained 
that  he  had  been  represented  by  his  Italian  servant 
as  the  American  minister ! 

Early  in  the  spring  he  visited  Volterra,  once  a 
free  city  of  considerable  importance  in  republican 
Italy,  an  ancient  Etruscan  stronghold  when  Rome 
was  a  mere  hamlet,  but,  when  Bryant  saw  it,  a 
wretched  town  of  a  few  thousand  inhabitants, 
notable  in  a  land  of  music  for  containing  only  a 
single  piano-forte,  and  that  owned  by  a  Floren 
tine  lady.  From  the  tower  of  the  fortress  the 
traveller  beheld  in  one  view,  on  the  19th  of  March, 
fruit-trees  blossoming  in  the  dells  of  the  mountain 
side,  and  the  snow-clad  peaks  of  the  Apennines. 


A  VISIT   TO  EUROPE.  89 

After  a  brief  sojourn  in  Rome  and  Naples  he 
returned  to  Florence,  visited  Venice,  and,  toward 
the  end  of  June,  began  a  northward  journey 
through  the  Tyrol.  In  ascending  the  Alps,  the 
party  had  the  rare  sight  of  a  snow-storm  in  June. 

"  As  we  advanced,"  he  says,  "  the  clouds  began  to  roll  oif 
from  the  landscape,  disclosing  here  and  there,  through  open 
ings  in  their  broad  skirts  as  they  swept  along,  glimpses  of 
the  profound  valleys  below  us,  and  of  the  white  sides  and 
summits  of  mountains  in  the  mid-sky  above.  At  length  the 
sun  appeared,  and  revealed  a  prospect  of  such  wildness, 
grandeur,  and  splendor  as  I  had  never  before  seen.  Lofty 
peaks  of  the  most  fantastic  shapes,  with  deep  clefts  between, 
sharp  needles  of  rock,  and  overhanging  crags,  infinite  in 
multitude,  shot  up  everywhere  around  us,  glistening  in  the 
new-fallen  snow,  with  their  wreaths  of  mist  creeping  along 
their  sides.  At  intervals,  swollen  torrents,  looking  at  a  dis 
tance  like  long  trains  of  foam,  came  thundering  down  the 
mountains,  and,  crossing  the  road,  plunged  into  the  verdant 
valleys  which  winded  beneath.  Beside  the  highway  were 
fields  of  young  grain,  pressed  to  the  ground  with  the  snow; 
and,  in  the  meadows,  ranunculuses  of  the  size  of  roses,  large 
yellow  violets,  and  a  thousand  other  Alpine  flowers  of  the 
most  brilliant  hues,  were  peeping  through  their  white  cov 
ering.  We  stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  place  called  Landro, 
a  solitary  inn,  in  the  midst  of  this  grand  scenery,  with  a 
little  chapel  beside  it.  The  water  from  the  dissolving  snow 
was  dripping  merrily  from  the  roof  in  a  bright  June  sun." l 

Descending  into  the  valleys  of  the  Tyrol,  he 
proceeded  to  Innsbruck  and  Munich,  spending 

1  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  48. 


90  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEIST  BRYANT. 

some  time  in  the  latter  city.  It  was  his  intention 
to  remain  several  years  in  Europe,  in  order  to 
improve  himself  in  the  modern  languages,  and 
educate  his  children  in  foreign  schools.  His  ex 
pectations  were  doomed  to  disappointment  in  an 
unlooked-for  manner.  Having  received  intelli 
gence  that  his  subordinate  in  the  editorial  man 
agement  of  "  The  Post  "  was  disabled  through  ill 
ness,  he  hastened  homeward  early  in  1836,  after 
an  absence  of  nearly  two  years. 


HARD   WOKK   AT   HOME.  91 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HARD  WORK  AT  HOME. 
1836-1845. 

"  Another  change,  and  I  see  him 
Where  the  city's  ceaseless  coil 
Sends  up  a  mighty  murmur 
From  a  thousand  modes  of  toil." 

"TTTILLIAM  LEGGETT,  in  whose  charge 
VV  "  The  Post  "  had  been  left  during  Bryant's 
trip  to  Europe,  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  powers. 
Among  New-York  journalists  his  rapidity  in  com 
position  has  long  been  proverbial.  Bryant  has 
himself  described  his  qualities  as  an  editor,  and 
speaks  of  him  as  "fond  of  study,  and  delighted 
to  trace  principles  to  their  remotest  consequences, 
whither  he  was  always  willing  to  follow  them. 
The  quality  of  courage  existed  in  him  almost  to 
excess,  and  he  took  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  bearding 
public  opinion.  He  wrote  with  surprising  fluency, 
and  often  with  eloquence  ;  took  broad  views  of  the 
questions  that  came  before  him ;  and  possessed  the 
faculty  of  rapidly  arranging  the  arguments  which 


92  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

occurred  to  him  in  clear  order,  and  stating  them 
persuasively."  l  Bryant  has  also  paid  a  glowing 
if  not  an  extravagant  tribute  to  Leggett's  memory 
in  a  little  poem  on  his  death :  — 

"  The  words  of  fire,  that  from  his  pen 
Were  flung  upon  the  fervid  page, 
Still  move,  still  shake,  the  hearts  of  men 
Amid  a  cold  and  coward  age. 

His  love  of  truth,  too  warm,  too  strong, 
For  hope  or  fear  to  chain  or  chill, 

His  hate  of  tyranny  and  wrong, 

Burn  in  the  breasts  he  kindled  still." 

Leggett  has  given  'his  ideal  of  a  journalist  in 
the  words  applied  to  Andrew  Fletcher  of  Saltoun: 
"  A  gentleman  steady  in  his  principles ;  of  nice 
honor ;  abundance  of  learning ;  brave  as  the  sword 
he  wears,  and  bold  as  a  lion  ;  a  sure  friend,  and 
an  irreconcilable  enemy ;  who  would  lose  his  life 
readily  to  serve  his  country,  and  would  not  do  a 
base  thing  to  save  it."  It  was  believed  by  those 
who  knew  him  best,  that  he  nearly  realized  his 
own  high  conception  of  what  an  editor  should  be ; 
only  this  is  hardly  a  world  for  such  an  editor. 

On  his  return  to  New  York,  Bryant  found  that 
his  associate  had  offended  the  patrons  of  "  The 
Post"  by  his  management  of  the  paper,  placing 
it  in  a  condition  that  it  required  much  skill  and 

1  History  of  The  Evening  Post. 


HARD   WORK  AT  HOME.  93 

labor  to  improve.  An  ardent  advocate  of  liberty 
in  every  form,  Leggett  had  expressed  himself 
vigorously  in  opposition  to  the  riots  which  had. 
disturbed  abolition-meetings ;  and  claimed,  for  the 
then  hated  agitators  against  slavery,  an  unre 
strained  freedom  of  speech.  The  finances  of  the 
journal  had  suffered  with  its  popularity ;  and,  when 
Bryant  resumed  the  management,  he  found  himself 
as  much  harassed  by  the  purely  business  difficulties 
of  the  situation  as  by  the  necessity  of  conciliating 
an  alienated  public.  Leggett  had  also  offended 
advertisers  in  his  zeal  to  secure  typographical 
beauty  in  the  appearance  of  the  paper.  The  pic 
torial  illustrations  in  the  advertisements  of  "  houses 
and  lots  for  sale  "  were  so  annoying  to  his  critical 
eye,  that  he  ordered  them  to  be  omitted,  to  the 
dissatisfaction  of  his  patrons.  A  step  •  once  taken 
was  never  retraced  by  Leggett,  and  two  years  of 
independence  had  proved  a  great  detriment  to  the 
owners  of  "  The  Post." 

After  his  retirement  from  "  The  Post  "  in  1836, 
Leggett  established  "  The  Plaindealer,"  in  which 
he  hoped  to  exercise  untrammelled  his  gift  for  ex 
posing  shams.  It  was  in  this  periodical  that  he 
made  the  attack  upon  Irving,  noticed  in  another 
place.  Having  failed  in  the  conduct  of  "  The 
Plaindealer,"  he  retired  from  journalism,  and, 
soon  after  receiving  a  consular  appointment  from 
President  Van  Buren,  ended  his  life  in  1839. 


94  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BEYANT. 

It  is  somewhat  unusual  to  find  a  man  of  genius 
conspicuously  successful  in  business,  and  poets 
especially  have  oftener  been  the  sport  of  Fortune 
.than  her  master.  To  the  mind  of  Bryant  thrift 
was  a  virtue,  not  a  mark  of  inferiority,  as  poets 
have  too  often  held  it.  Though  prudence  has 
been  called  "a  rascally  virtue,"  to  him  it  was 
"  wisdom  applied  to  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life," 
as  he  has  well  defined  it.  He  held  that  it  "  in 
cludes  forecast,  one  of  the  highest  operations  of 
the  intellect,  and  the  due  adjustment  of  means  to 
ends,  without  which  a  man  is  useless  to  himself 
and  to  society,  except  as  a  blunderer  by  whose 
example  others  may  be  warned."  l 

Prudence  and  industry  were  the  qualities  needed 
to  restore,  "  The  Post "  to  its  place  in  the  public 
regard,  and -both  were  abundantly  possessed  by 
the  poet-editor.  He  gave  his  whole  mind  to  the 
re-establishment  and  advancement  of  his  paper, 
and  soon  reaped  the  reward  of  well-directed  dili 
gence  in  its  improved  condition. 

Success  was  not  won,  however,  by  any  sacrifice 
of  conviction  in  the  discussion  of  public  issues. 
The  times  were  fruitful  in  troublesome  questions, 
and  conflict  was  inevitable.  Many  of  those  radi 
cal  differences  of  view  which  have  since  been 
settled  only  by  the  arbitrament  of  arms  were 
dividing  the  minds  of  men.  Free  trade  was  ad- 

1  Orations  and  Addresses,  p.  173. 


HAED   WORK  AT  HOME.  95 

vocated  in  the  South,  and  a  tariff  was  demanded 
by  the  North.  Slavery  was  creeping  westward, 
and  what  were  the  rightful  limits  of  its  territory 
was  a  subject  of  dispute.  Abolitionists  were  press 
ing  their  doctrines  in  Massachusetts,  and  slave- 
drivers  were  hurrying  their  chattels  to  the  plains 
of  the  South-West.  The  problem  of  finance  was 
agitating  the  commercial  centres  of  the  country. 
The  proposed  annexation  of  Texas  was  provoking 
an  impassioned  controversy.  A  war  with  Mexico 
was  impending.  Through  this  labyrinth  of  na 
tional  questions  Bryant  threaded  his  way  with 
caution,  but  never  lost  the  clew  which  he  had 
chosen,  —  the  love  of  truth  and  country.  Possibly 
sometimes  wrong,  he  was  never  perverse.  Sur 
rounded  by  protectionists,  he  was  a  champion  of 
free  trade.  In  sympathy  with  the  economic  doc 
trines  of  the  South,  he  was  opposed  to  the  exten 
sion  of  slavery.  He  regarded  the  doctrine  of 
nullification  as  fallacious ;  though  he  opposed  the 
tariff-law,  which  the  South  wished  to  nullify.  He 
believed  in  the  nationality  of  the  Union,  and  the 
equal  rights  of  all. 

Bryant's  controversies  sometimes  brought  him 
into  unpleasant  relations  with  his  contemporaries. 
A  Democratic  editor  named  Holland,  who  lived 
according  to  the  old  code  of  honor,  being  exas 
perated  by  some  statements  in  "The  Post,"  sent  a 
challenge  to  its  editor.  At  that  time  duelling  had 


96  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

become  less  fashionable  in  New  York  than  it  had 
been  half  a  century  earlier,  and  was  about  to  be 
consigned  to  the  realm  of  the  lost  arts.  The 
belligerent  editor  who  challenged  Bryant  had  pre 
viously  had  a  brush  with  his  testy  associate,  Wil 
liam  Leggett ;  and  had  invited  that  gentleman  to 
be  killed  by  him,  but  in  vain.  In  his  reply  to 
Holland's  messenger,  Bryant  neither  accepted  nor 
declined  the  challenge,  but  said,  that,  when  his 
antagonist  had  finished  Leggett,  his  turn  would 
come  next !  Thus  the  difficulty  ended. 

After  Leggett's  withdrawal  from  "The  Post," 
Mr.  Parke  Godwin,  who  afterwards  married  Bry 
ant's  eldest  daughter,  became  his  assistant  in  the 
editorial  work  of  the  paper.  Mr.  Godwin,  who  has 
since  taken  an  honorable  place  among  men  of  letters 
by  his  translations  from  the  German,  his  "  History 
of  France,"  and  his  "  Biographical  Dictionary," 
has  furnished  the  following  reminiscences  of  his 
father-in-law  during  this  period  of  struggle :  — 

"  During  these  years  Mr.  Bryant's  occupations  were  most 
laborious.  Promptly  every  morning,  as  early  as  eight 
o'clock,  —  sometimes  as  early  as  seven,  —  he  was  at  his  desk, 
engaged  in  the  business  of  the  day.  His  assistance  was 
limited,  owing  to  the  pecuniary  condition  of  the  paper,  and 
much  of  the  heavy  work  fell  upon  him;  but  he  shirked  none 
of  it ;  and,  though  not  a  rapid  writer,  he  managed  every  day 
to  put  forth  one  or  two  leading  articles  of  telling  force.  If 
I  do  not  mistake,  Mr.  Bryant  was  the  first  of  our  journalists 
to  adopt  the  English  practice  of  '  leaders,'  which  has  since 


HAKD   WOEK  AT   HOME.  97 

become  the  universal  habit  of  our  journalism.  Mr.  Bryant 
possessed  an  almost  intuitive  quickness  of  judgment  in  the 
determination  of  public  questions  as  they  arose :  he  pene 
trated  their  bearings  at  a  glance ;  and  his  decisions  in  regard 
to  them,  though  sometimes  erroneous,  were  for  the  most 
part  in  accordance  with  the  development  of  events.  Jour 
nalists,  more  than  other  men,  are  compelled  to  form  their 
opinions  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  are,  therefore,  more 
than  other  men,  liable  to  mistakes ;  but  Mr.  Bryant's  intel 
lectual  vision  was  so  clear,  his  knowledge  so  broad,  his 
ambitions  so  disinterested,  and  his  moral  sense  so  vivid]y 
alive  to  the  slightest  deflection  of  the  needle  of  conscience 
from  its  pole,  that  his  hastiest  conclusions  carried  with  them 
the  marks  and  evidences  of  a  ripened  wisdom.  His  most 
superficial  readers  felt  at  once  that  here  is  a  man  in  whom 
the  utmost  confidence  might  be  reposed."  l 

Mr.  Godwin  informs  us  that  Bryant  always 
wrote  his  editorials  in  the  office,  and  never  at  his 
home.  His  leisure  hours  were  devoted  to  reflec 
tion  and  communion  with  the  best  authors  in 
several  languages.  "  He  steadily  refused  to  carry 
the  shop  with  him ;  seldom,  if  ever,  conversing  on 
the  exciting  questions  of  the  day  at  his  home, — 
preferring  to  read  some  fascinating  book,  or  to  talk 
on  general  topics  with  cultivated  friends.  By  this 
means  he  was  enabled  to  bring  to  his  desk  a  mind 
ever  alert  and  fresh,  fancies  ever  new,  and  lan 
guage  that  was  choice  and  picturesque." 

In  the  summer  of  1841  the  editorial  pen  was 
laid  aside  for  a  short  tour  on  the  prairies  of 

1  The  Evening  Post,  July  10, 1878. 


98  LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Illinois,  then  the  abode  of  prairie-wolves  and 
rough  settlers,  with  whom  lynch  law  was  a  neces 
sary  safeguard  to  the  honest  portion  of  the  com 
munity.  The  letters  to  "  The  Post,"  written  at 
this  time,  were  afterwards  published,  with  those 
sent  from  Europe,  in  the  volume  entitled  "  Letters 
of  a  Traveller." 

In  1842  Bryant  published,  in  New  York  and 
London,  a  collection  of  verses,  with  the  title  of 
"  The  Fountain,  and  Other  Poems,"  a  duodecimo 
volume  of  one  hundred  pages,  containing,  with 
other  poems,  "  The  Winds,"  "  The  Green-Mountain 
Boys,"  "The  Death  of  Schiller,"  "Life,"  "A  Pre 
sentiment,"  "  The  Future  Life,"  and  "  An  Evening 
Reverie."  In  quantity  it  was  not  a  large  result 
for  ten  years'  labor ;  but  in  quality  it  was  rich,  — 
the  fragrant  distillation  of  many  blossoms.  After 
stating  that  his  name  had  become  "  classical  in  the 
literature  of  the  language,"  "  The  North- American 
Review"  makes  the  following  comments  on  the 
poet :  — 

"  Mr.  Bryant,  during  a  long  career  of  authorship,  has 
written  but  comparatively  little;  but  that  little  is  of  un 
told  price  ;  bhiyov  TE  Qihov  re,  —  little,  but  precious  and  dear. 
What  exquisite  taste !  what  a  delicate  ear  for  the  music  of 
poetical  language !  what  a  fine  and  piercing  sense  of  the 
beauties  of  Nature,  down  to  the  minutest  and  most  evan 
escent  things  !  He  walks  forth  into  the  fields  and  forests ; 
and  not  a  green  or  rosy  tint,  not  a  flower  or  herb  or  tree, 
not  a  tiny  leaf  or  gossamer  tissue,  not  a  strange  or  familiar 


HAKD   WORK  AT   HOME.  99 

plant,  escapes  his  vigilant  glance.  The  naturalist  is  not 
keener  in  searching  out  the  science  of  Nature  than  he  in 
detecting  all  its  poetical  aspects,  effects,  analogies,  and 
contrasts.  To  him  the  landscape  is  a  speaking  and  teach 
ing  page.  He  sees  its  pregnant  meaning,  and  all  its 
hidden  relations  to  the  life  of  man.  For  him  the  shadow 
and  sunshine  that  chase  each  other  in  swift  rivalry  over 
the  plain  are  suggestive  of  deep  meaning  and  touching 
comparisons.  For  him  the  breath  of  evening  and  of 
morning  have  an  articulate  voice.  To  him  the  song  of 
birds  is  a  symbol  of  that  deeper  song  of  joy  and  thankful 
ness  that  ascends  forever  from  the  heart  of  man  to  the 
Giver  of  every  good.  To  him  the  ocean  utters  its  solemn 
hymns,  and  he  can  well  interpret  them  to  others."  1 

High  as  this  praise  is,  the  poet  no  longer  bore 
the  palm  alone.  A  new  race  of  singers  had  risen 
to  contend  for  the  honors  of  the  first  place  in 
the  ranks  of  the  nation's  bards.  "  Among  Ameri 
can  poets,"  says  the  critic  just  quoted,  "his  name 
stands,  if  not  the  very  first,  at  least  among  the 
two  or  three  foremost."  Only  a  few  years  later 
Edgar  Allan  Poe  wrote,  "It  will  never  do  to 
claim  for  Bryant  a  genius  of  the  loftiest  order; 
but  there  has  been  latterly,  since  the  days  of  Mr. 
Longfellow  and  Mr.  Lowell,  a  growing  disposition 
to  deny  him  genius  in  any  respect.  He  is  now 
commonly  spoken  of  as  'a  man  of  high  poetical 
talent,  very  correct,  with  a  warm  appreciation  of 
the  beauty  of  Nature,  and  great  descriptive  powers, 
but  rather  too  much  of  the  old-school  manner  of 

1  North-American  Review,  October,  1842,  p.  501. 


100         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

Cowper,  Goldsmith,  and  Young.  This  is  the  truth, 
but  not  the  whole  truth.  Mr.  Bryant  has  genius, 
and  that  of  a  marked  character ;  but  it  has  been 
overlooked  by  modern  schools,  because  deficient 
in  those  externals  which  have  become,  in  a 
measure,  symbolical  of  those  schools."  l 

In  the  spring  of  1843  the  poet-editor  made  an 
extensive  journey  through  the  South,  visiting 
Washington,  Richmond,  Charleston,  Savannah, 
and  St.  Augustine.  The  features  of  the  country 
and  the  manners  of  the  people  were  closely  ob 
served,  and  reported  in  letters  to  "The  Post." 
On  his  return  from  the  South  he  spent  the  summer 
in  visiting  New  England,  making  an  excursion 
through  Vermont  and  New  Hampshire.  His  ex 
periences  in  this  journey  also  were  written  out 
for  his  paper,  and  may  be  found  related  in  the 
"  Letters  of  a  Traveller." 

In  1845  the  prosperity  of  "The  Post"  was  so 
far  assured  that  Bryant  felt  justified  in  leaving  it 
in  the  care  of  others,  and  determined  to  visit 
Europe  once  more.  He  embarked  for  Liverpool 
in  April  in  company  with  Mr.  Charles  M.  Leupp, 
a  wealthy  merchant  of  New  York,  and  a  connois 
seur  of  the  fine  arts. 

i  Poe's  Works,  vol.  iii.  p.  181. 


IN  MANY  LANDS.  10i 


CHAPTER    VII. 

IN  MANY  LANDS. 
1845-1850. 

"  Now,  far  on  the  North  Sea  islands, 

Sees  day  on  the  midnight  sky; 
Now  gathers  the  fair  strange  fruitage 
Where  the  isles  of  the  Southland  lie." 

AFTER  a  delightful  voyage,  in  which,  says 
Bryant,  the  vessel  "  slid  along  ovei  a  placid 
sea  before  the  gentlest  zephyrs  that  ever  swept 
the  ocean,"  the  travellers  reached  Liverpool  about 
the  middle  of  May.  Near  the  end  of  the  month 
they  proceeded  to  Manchester,  and  thence  to 
Derby.  An  incident  occurred  during  the  coach- 
ride  through  Derbyshire,  too  full  of  significance  to 
be  omitted  here.  "  Among  our  fellow-passengers," 
says  Bryant,  "was  a  powerfully-made  man,  who 
had  the  appearance  of  being  a  commercial  traveller, 
and  was  very  communicative  on  the  subject  of  the 
Peak,  its  caverns,  its  mines,  and  the  old  ruined 
castle  of  the  Peverils,  built,  it  is  said,  by  one  of 
the  Norman  invaders  of  England.  He  spoke  in 


102        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BEYANT. 

the  Derbyshire  dialect,  with  a  strong  provincial 
accent.  When  he  was  asked  whether  the  castle 
was  not  the  one  spoken  of  by  Scott  in  his  '  Peveril 
of  the  Peak,'  he  replied,  'Scott?  Scott?  I  dunna 
know  him.'  " l  Bryant  was  fortunate  enough,  how 
ever,  to  halt  at  the  inn  of  one  John  Clark,  who 
had  not  only  heard  of  Scott,  but  in  former  days, 
when  a  coachman,  had .  driven  the  coach  that 
brought  him  to  the  Peak,  and  knew  that  the 
ruined  castle  was  the  abode  of  Scott's  Peveril. 

On  his  arrival  in  London,  Bryant  was  honored 
with  a  dinner  given  by  Edward  Everett,  then  the 
American  minister  at  the  court  of  St.  James. 
Here  he  met  Samuel  Rogers  and  Thomas  Moore. 
When  presented  to  Rogers,  Bryant  spoke  of  a  let 
ter  of  introduction  which  he  would  have  the  honor 
to  present.  The  older  poet  interrupted  him  with 
a  kindly  wave  of  the  hand,  and  replied,  "  It  is  quite 
unnecessary.  I  have  long  known  you  through  your 
writings."  2  The  introduction  was  followed  by  an 
invitation  to  breakfast  with  Rogers  at  his  home. 
It  was  at  this  breakfast  that  Bryant  became  ac 
quainted  with  several  distinguished  Englishmen,  in 
cluding  Sir  Charles  Eastlake,  and  Richard  Monck- 
ton  Milnes,  afterward  Lord  Houghton. 

While  in  London,  the  traveller  gave  much  atten 
tion  to  the  works  of  art  then  on  exhibition,  and 

1  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  155. 

2  The  Bryant  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  25. 


IN   MANY  LANDS.  103 

expressed  some  opinions  that  are  of  interest  to  all 
lovers  of  American  art.  He  saw,  at  the  moment 
of  Powers's  great  triumph,  the  statue  that  made 
that  artist's  reputation  and  fortune. 

"The  town  is  yet  talking  [he  says]  of  a  statue  of  a 
Greek  slave  by  our  countryman  Powers,  which  was  to  be 
seen,  a  few  days  since,  at  a  print-shop  in  Pall  Mall.  I  went 
to  look  at  it.  The  statue  represents  a  Greek  girl  exposed 
naked  for  sale  in  the  slave-market.  Her  hands  are  fettered, 
the  drapery  of  her  nation  lies  at  her  feet,  and  she  is  shrink 
ing  from  the  public  gaze.  I  looked  at  it  with  surprise  and 
delight.  I  was  dazzled  with  the  soft  fulness  of  the  outlines, 
the  grace  of  the  attitude,  the  noble  yet  sad  expression  of  the 
countenance,  and  the  exquisite  perfection  of  the  workman 
ship.  I  could  not  help  acknowledging  a  certain  literal  truth 
in  the  expression  of  Byron  concerning  a  beautiful  statue, 

that  it 

'fills 
The  air  around  with  beauty.'  "  * 

Bryant  saw  nothing  to  astonish  him  in  the  exhi 
bition  of  paintings  by  the  Royal  Academy,  when 
he  compared  them  with  the  pictures  of  the  New- 
York  Academy  of  the  Arts  of  Design,  "except 
that  some  of  the  worst  pictures  were  hung  in  the 
most  conspicuous  places."  He  had  little  admira 
tion  for  the  works  on  exhibition  by  Turner  and 
Haydon.  Those  of  the  first  he  thought  "mere 
blotches  of  white  paint,  with  streaks  of  yellow 
and  red,  and  without  any  intelligible  design ; " 

i  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  164. 


104         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

and  Haydon  was  conspicuous  for  "  a  most  hideous 
picture  of  Uriel  and  Satan."  Yet  he  admits  that 
Turner  was  "  a  great  artist,  and  a  man  of  genius." 
In  a  critic  less  honorable  than  Bryant,  this  severity 
might  appear  to  be  a  patriotic  defence  of  American 
artists,  whose  pictures  were  "  all  hung  so  high  as 
to  be  out  of  sight,  except  one,  and  that  was  in 
what  is  called  the  condemned  room,  where  only  a 
glimmer  of  light  enters,  and  where  the  hanging 
committee  are  in  the  practice  of  thrusting  any 
such  pictures  as  they  cannot  help  exhibiting,  but 
wish  to  keep  in  the  dark." 

It  is  well  known  that  one  of  the  chief  attrac 
tions  of  New-York  City,  the  Central  Park,  was 
first  suggested  by  a  letter  to  "  The  Post,"  written 
by  Bryant  when  in  London.  A  day  spent  in  the 
great  parks  of  that  city — Kensington  Gardens, 
Hyde  Park,  and  Hegent's  Park,  which  have  been 
happily  called  "the  lungs  of  London"  —  convinced 
him  of  their  great  value  to  public  health  and  hap 
piness,  and  gave  origin  to  the  following  hints  to 
the  people  of  New  York :  — 

"  The  population  of  your  city,  increasing  with  such  prodi 
gious  rapidity,  your  sultry  summers,  and  the  corrupt  atmos 
phere  generated  in  hot  and  crowded  streets,  make  it  a  cause 
of  regret,  that,  in  laying  out  New  York,  no  preparation  was 
made,  while  it  was  yet  practicable,  for  a  range  of  parks  and 
public  gardens  along  the  central  part  of  the  island  or  else 
where,  to  remain  perpetually  for  the  refreshment  and  rec- 


IN   MANY  LANDS.  105 

reation  of  the  citizens  during  the  torrid  heats  of  the  warm 
season.  There  are  yet  unoccupied  lands  on  the  island  which 
might,  I  suppose,  be  procured  for  the  purpose,  and  which, 
on  account  of  their  rocky  and  uneven  surface,  might  be 
laid  out  into  surpassingly  beautiful  pleasure-grounds ;  but, 
while  we  are  discussing  the  subject,  the  advancing  popula 
tion  of  the  city  is  sweeping  over  them,  and  covering  them 
from  our  reach." l 

From  London  Bryant  proceeded  to  Edinburgh 
(the  finest  city  he  had  ever  seen),  visited  Stirling 
Castle,  saw  the  battle-fields  of  Bamiockburn  and 
Falkirk,  and  passed  through  the  Highlands  to 
Glasgow.  As  he  rowed  over  Loch  Katrine,  the 
romantic  scenes  of  Scott's  "Lady  of  the  Lake," 
"  There,"  said  the  guide,  "  is  the  spot  in  the  Tros- 
achs  where  Fitz  James  lost  his  gallant  gray.  .  .  . 
Yonder  is  the  island  where  Douglas  concealed  his 
daughter.  Under  that  broad  oak,  whose  boughs 
almost  dip  into  the  water,  was  the  place  where  her 
skiff  was  moored.  On  that  rock,  covered  with 
heath,  Fitz  James  stood,  and  wound  his  bugle. 
Near  it,  but  out  of  sight,  is  the  skiff  that  received 
him  on  board.  ...  In  that  dwelling  Rob  Roy  was 
born." 

After  visiting  the  habitation  of  Baillie  Jar  vie, 
and  the  old  tower  of  the  Tolbooth  where  Rob  Roy 
was  confined  in  Glasgow,  he  made  an  excursion 
to  Ayr  (the  birthplace  of  Burns),  saw  the  little  old 

i  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  170. 


106         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

roofless  kirk  of  Alloway,  the  bridge  across  the 
Doon  where  Tarn  O'Shanter  met  the  witches  in 
his  midnight  ride,  and  the  clay-built  cottage  — 
now  an  alehouse  —  where  Burns  was  born. 

Late  in  July,  Bryant  left  Glasgow  for  Ireland, 
visiting  Belfast  and  Dublin.  Returning  to  Eng 
land,  he  heard  Cobden,  who  impressed  him  as 
having  "a  certain  New-England  sharpness  and 
shrewdness  in  his  way  of  dealing  with  a  subject; " 
and  Fox,  "one  of  the  most  fluent  and  ingenious 
speakers  "  he  had  ever  heard  in  a  popular  assem 
bly.  After  a  brief  visit  in  Paris,  he  made  a  tour 
through  the  Netherlands  and  Germany,  passing 
through  Brussels,  Waterloo,  Antwerp,  Rotterdam, 
the  Hague,  Amsterdam,  Utrecht,  Diisseldorf,  and 
Cologne ;  proceeding  to  Italy  in  October.  At  the 
end  of  the  year  (1845)  he  returned  to  New  York. 

We  have  a  pen-portrait  of  the  poet  soon  after 
his  return,  sketched  by  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  who  was 
then  writing  his  keen  articles  on  "  The  Literati  of 
New  York:"  — 

"  He  is  now  fifty-two  years  of  age,"  says  Poe.  "  In  height 
he  is,  perhaps,  five  feet  nine.  His  frame  is  rather  robust. 
His  features  are  large,  but  thin.  His  countenance  is  sallow, 
nearly  bloodless.  His  eyes  are  piercing  gray,  deep  set,  with 
large  projecting  eyebrows.  His  mouth  is  wide  and  mas 
sive  ;  the  expression  of  the  smile  hard,  cold,  even  sardonic. 
The  forehead  is  broad,  with  prominent  organs  of  ideality ; 
a  good  deal  bald;  the  hair  thin  and  grayish ;  as  are  also  the 
whiskers,  which  he  wears  in  a  simple  style.  His  bearing  is 


IN  MANY  LANDS.  107 

quite  distinguished,  full  of  the  aristocracy  of  intellect.  In 
general,  he  looks  in  better  health  than  before  his  last  visit 
to  England.  He  seems  active,  —  physically  and  morally 
energetic.  His  dress  is  plain  to  the  extreme  of  simplicity, 
although  of  late  there  is  a  certain  degree  of  Anglicism 
about  it. 

"In  character  no  man  stands  more  lofty  than  Bryant. 
The  peculiarly  melancholy  expression  of  his  countenance 
has  caused  him  to  be  accused  of  harshness,  or  coldness  of 
heart.  Never  was  there  a  greater  mistake.  His  soul  is 
charity  itself,  in  all  respects  generous  and  noble.  His 
manners  are  undoubtedly  reserved. 

"  Of  late  days  he  has  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  aban 
doned  literary  pursuits,  although  still  editing  with  unabated 
vigor  '  The  New- York  Evening  Post.'  He  is  married  (Mrs. 
Bryant  still  living),  has  two  daughters  (one  of  them  Mrs. 
Parke  Godwin),  and  is  residing  for  the  present  at  Vice- 
Chancellor  McCown's,  near  the  junction  of  Warren  and 
Church  Streets."  l 

The  sight  of  foreign  lands  had  renewed  his 
desire  to  know  more  of  his  own  country  from  per 
sonal  inspection,  and  the  years  from  1846  to  1849 
were  largely  occupied  in  long  excursions  to  vari 
ous  parts  of  the  United  States.  In  these  jour 
neys,  some  of  them  occupying  several  months,  his 
correspondence  is  dated  from  the  Great  Lakes  of 
the  North-West,  the  towns  of  Pennsylvania,  the 
forests  of  Maine,  and  the  mountains  of  New 
Hampshire.  A  glance  at  his  letters  written  to 
"  The  Post "  at  this  time  gives  a  vivid  realization 

i  Poe's  Works,  vol.  iii.  pp.  187, 188. 


108        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

of  the  rapid  march  of  material  progress  since  made 
in  all  parts  of  this  country.  They  tell  of  days 
when  the  lumbering  stage-coach  was  the  principal 
conveyance  between  the  towns  of  Illinois,  and  de 
scribe  great  cities  as  new  settlements;  and  these 
are  the  letters  of  a  traveller  then  past  the  merid 
ian  of  life,  and  who  was  living  but  yesterday ! 

In  the  spring  of  1849  Bryant  made  a  tour 
through  the  South,  extending  his  journey  to  the 
Island  of  Cuba.  Leaving  New  York  in  March,  he 
took  passage  by  sea  for  Savannah.  From  Savan 
nah  he  proceeded  to  Augusta,  and  thence  to 
Charleston,  where  he  embarked  for  Havana. 

The  letters  from  Cuba  are  more  interesting  than 
those  from  other  countries  which  he  had  at  this 
time  described,  partly  because  the  island  had  been 
less  frequently  discussed  in  works  of  travel,  but 
chiefly  because  it  presented  a  new  phase  of  Nature 
to  a  careful  student  of  her  diversities.  Not  a 
quality  of  the  climate,  not  a  peculiarity  of  the 
breeze,  not  a  form  of  vegetation,  not  a  phenome 
non  of  the  landscape,  not  a  configuration  of  the 
clouds,  escapes  the  eye  of  the  vigilant  observer. 
It  seems  as  if  he  were  fated  never  to  meet  with 
adventures.  No  traveller  has  met  with  fewer 
incidents.  The  whole  interest  of  his  sketches 
rests  upon  the  detailed  accuracy  of  his  pictures, 
sometimes  of  men  and  manners,  but  chiefly  of  nat 
ural  scenery.  He  transports  us  to  a  tropical  for- 


IN  MANY  LANDS.  109 

est;  and  we  see  the  royal  palm,  with  its  tall, 
straight,  white  columnar  trunk,  and  "  Corinthian 
capital  of  leaves,"  in  colonnades  "  nobler  than  any 
of  the  porticos  to  the  ancient  Egyptian  temples." 
If  he  describes  a  cottage,  he  is  sure  not  to  omit  to 
mention  "  the  grove  of  plantains  behind ;  a  thicket 
of  bamboo  near  the  door,  waving  its  willow-like 
sprays  in  the  wind;  a  pair  of  mango-trees  near, 
hung  with  fruit  just  ripening,  and  reddish  blos 
soms  just  opening ;  and  a  cocoa-tree  or  two,  lifting 
high  above  the  rest  its  immense  feathery  leaves 
and  its  clusters  of  green  nuts."  His  pages  are 
overrun  with  vines,  and  fragrant  with  tropical 
blossoms.  He  who  loved  the  fringed  gentian  and 
the  yellow  violet  that  grew  in  the  dells  and  on 
the  hillsides  at  Cummingtori  found  his  chief 
delight  among  the  damask  roses  and  orange-blos 
soms  that  bloomed  on  the  bosom  of  the  Queen  of 
the  Antilles. 

Nothing  impressed  his  mind  more  profoundly 
than  the  Cuban  mode  of  burial,  —  piling  the  dead 
bodies  in  trenches,  one  upon  the  other,  coffinless, 
and  without  funeral  service.  The  lines  of  "  Than- 
atopsis  "  were  never  lost  from  the  poet's  memory ; 
never  ceased  to  color  his  thoughts  and  feelings. 
The  cemetery  of  the  Campo  Santo  seems  ever 
uppermost  in  his  mind  as  he  thinks  of  the  people 
at  their  sports.  He  tries  to  be  humorous  as  he 
describes  the  principal  diversion  of  the  island :  — 


110         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  Cuba,"  he  says,  "seemed  to  me  a  great  poultry-yard. 
I  heard  the  crowing  of  the  cocks  in  all  quarters ;  for  the 
game-cock  is  the  noisiest  and  most  boastful  of  birds,  and  is 
perpetually  uttering  his  notes  of  defiance.  In  the  villages 
I  saw  the  veterans  of  the  pit,  a  strong-legged  race,  with  their 
combs  cropped  smooth  to  the  head,  the  feathers  plucked  from 
every  part  of  the  body  except  their  wings,  and  the  tail  docked 
like  that  of  a  coach-horse,  picking  up  their  food  in  the  lanes 
among  the  chickens.  One  old  cripple  I  remember  to  have 
seen  in  the  little  town  of  Guines,  stiff  with  wounds  received 
in  combat,  who  had  probably  got  a  furlough  for  life,  and 
who,  while  limping  among  his  female  companions,  main 
tained  a  sort  of  strut  in  his  gait,  and  now  and  then  stopped 
to  crow  defiance  to  the  world.  The  peasants  breed  game 
cocks,  and  bring  them  to  market ;  amateurs  in  the  town  train 
them  for  private  amusement.  Dealers  in  game-cocks  are  as 
common  as  horse-jockeys  with  us,  and  every  village  has  its 
cock-pit."  l 

But,  before  he  leaves  the  subject,  he  describes  a 
throng  of  excited  people  "engaged  in  the  brutal 
sport,  with  eager  gestures  and  loud  cries ; "  and 
"  cannot  help  thinking  how  soon  this  noisy  crowd 
will  lie  in  heaps  in  the  pits  of  the  Campo  Santo." 
The  graceful  Spanish  dances,  "  resembling  the  un 
dulations  of  the  sea  in  its  gentlest  moods,"  are 
mentioned ;  but  the  dread  thought  still  haunts  him, 
and  he  cannot  help  thinking,  as  he  looks  on  "  the 
gay  crowd,  on  the  quaint  maskers,  and  the  dancers, 
whose  flexible  limbs  seem  swayed  to  and  fro  by 
the  breath  of  the  music,  that  all  this  must  soon 
end  at  the  Campo  Santo." 

i  Letters  of  a  Traveller,  p.  367. 


IN  MANY  LANDS.  Ill 

With  headquarters  at  Havana,  he  made  numer 
ous  excursions  to  various  points  of  interest  in  the 
island,  —  the  coffee-estates  of  San  Antonio  and  the 
sugar-plantations  of  Matanzas,  —  returning  to  New 
York  in  May. 

The  following  July  (1849)  finds  him  once  more 
in  London,  criticising  the  art-galleries,  and  express 
ing  opinions  and  prophecies  regarding  the  politics 
of  England.  During  this  visit  he  once  more  met 
Rogers,  then  an  old  man,  full  of  whims  and  crotch 
ets.  The  aged  poet  was  impressed  with  the  decay 
of  greatness  in  the  declining  years  of  life.  "  Our 
poets  seem  to  be  losing  their  minds,"  said  he. 
"  Campbell's  son  was  in  a  madhouse ;  and,  if  the 
father  had  been  put  there  in  the  last  years  of  his 
life,  it  would  have  been  the  proper  place  for  him. 
Bowles  became  weak-minded ;  and  as  for  Southey, 
you  know  what  happened  to  him.  Moore  was  here 
the  other  day,  and  I  asked,  c  Moore,  how  long  have 
you  been  in  town?'  —  'Three  or  four  days,'  he 
replied.  '  What !  three  or  four  days,  and  not  let 
me  know  it  ? '  —  'I  beg  pardon,'  said  he,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  forehead :  4 1  believe  I  came  to  town 
this  morning.'  As  to  Wordsworth,  a  gentleman 
who  saw  him  lately  said  to  me,  '  You  would  not 
find  Wordsworth  much  changed :  he  talks  ration 
ally.'  " 1 

After  a  voyage  through  the  Orkneys,  past  the 

1  Scribner's  Monthly,  August,  1878. 


112        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CTJLLEX   BRYANT. 

Fitful  Head  of  Scott's  "Pirate,"  Bryant  found 
himself,  in  the  middle  of  July,  among  the  Shetland 
Isles,  climbing  the  towering  cliffs  that  frown  upon 
the  encroaching  sea,  and  break  its  resounding 
waves  as  they  roar  about  their  cavernous  bases. 
Here,  as  everywhere,  the  poet-botanist  discerns 
every  trace  of  vegetation ;  and  as  he  describes  the 
Avail  of  rock  that  forms  the  Noup  of  the  Noss,  de 
scending  perpendicularly  six  hundred  feet  into  the 
sea,  he  does  not  fail  to  notice  that  the  upper  part 
of  its  face  is  "  tapestried  with  herbage  and  flowers, 
which  the  perpetual  moisture  of  the  atmosphere 
keeps  always  fresh,  —  daisies  nodding  in  the  wind, 
and  the  crimson  phlox,  seeming  to  set  the  cliffs  on 
flame ;  yellow  buttercups,  and  a  variety  of  other 
plants  in  bloom."  The  Shetland  scenery  presented 
a  wild  aspect  of  Nature  that  gave  him  great  de 
light;  and  he  was  loath  to  bid  farewell  to  "its 
grand  precipices,  its  winding  straits,  its  remains 
of  a  remote  and  rude  antiquity,  its  little  horses, 
little  cows,  and  little  sheep,  its  seafowl,  its  larks, 
its  flowers,  and  its  hardy  and  active  people." 

Returning  through  Scotland,  he  visited  Paris, 
then  in  a  state  of  excitement  over  the  recent  revo 
lution  and  the  Italian  wars,  and  under  the  rule 
of  the  bayonet.  After  a  brief  stay  he  travelled 
through  Germany,  then  also  under  military  rule. 
He  found  "the  cities  along  the  Ehine  crowded 
with  soldiers ;  the  sound  of  the  drum  was  heard 


IN   MANY  LANDS.  113 

among  the  hills  covered  with  vines ;  women  were 
trundling  loaded  wheelbarrows,  and  carrying  pan 
niers  like  asses,  to  earn  the  taxes  extorted  to  sup 
port  the  men  who  were  stalking  in  uniform." 
From  Heidelberg  he  hastened  through  the  charm 
ing  valley  of  the  Neckar  to  Heilbronn,  hoping  to 
avoid  the  sight  of  the  odious  soldiery,  but  found 
troops  posted  even  in  the  smallest  villages.  At 
Heilbronn  he  took  the  railway  for  Stuttgart,  and 
entered  that  city  in  the  midst  of  an  army  of  mili 
tary  passengers.  At  Ulm  "  the  gentry  in  epaulets  " 
were  gathered  in  swarms,  and  at  Munich  they  were 
no  less  numerous.  At  the  latter  city  he  heard  of 
the  fall  of  the  Hungarian  Republic,  the  treason  of 
Gorgey,  and  Kossuth's  flight  into  Turkey. 

Passing  through  the  southern  part  of  Bavaria, 
—  which  reminded  him  of  his  own  New  England, 
with  the  important  exceptions  that  the  houses 
were  of  Swiss  architecture,  and  the  women  were 
at  the  plough,  —  he  crossed  Lake  Constance  into 
Switzerland.  His  joy  at  reaching  an  asylum  of 
freedom,  after  the  scenes  of  oppression  he  had  just 
witnessed,  was  almost  overwhelming ;  and  he  says 
he  could  "  almost  have  kneeled  and  kissed  the 
shore  of  the  hospitable  republic.  And  really  it 
was  beautiful  enough,"  he  adds,  ufor  such  a  demon 
stration  of  affection ;  for  nothing  could  be  lovelier 
than  the  declivities  of  that  shore,  with  its  woods 
and  orchards  and  grassy  meadows,  and  green  hoi- 


114        LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

lows  running  upward  to  the  mountain-tops,  all 
fresh  with  a  shower  which  had  just  passed,  and 
now  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  and  interspersed 
with  large  Swiss  houses  bearing  quaintly-carved 
galleries  and  broad  overhanging  roofs ;  while  to 
the  east  rose  the  glorious  summits  of  the  Alps, 
mingling  with  the  clouds." 

After  a  visit  to  Zurich,  Bern,  Freiburg,  and 
Geneva,  he  returned  to  France,  passing  through 
Lyons  to  Paris,  which  he  reached  in  the  middle 
of  September.  Later  in  the  autumn  (1849)  he 
crossed  the  Atlantic,  not  to  recross  it  for  several 
years.  For  a  long  period  he  had  been  a  bird  of 
passage,  flitting  from  shore  to  shore  of  the  Old 
World  and  the  New.  Weary  with  his  wanderings, 
and  prouder  of  his  own  land  from  what  he  had 
seen  of  others,  he  was  glad  once  more  to  enjoy 
the  quiet  life  of  home. 

Soon  after  his  return,  the  letters  written  to  "  The 
Post"  during  his  travels  in  various  parts  of  the 
world  were  collected  in  a  volume,  and  published 
in  New  York  by  G.  P.  Putnam  &  Sons,  with  the 
title,  "  Letters  of  a  Traveller  ;  or,  Notes  of  Things 
seen  in  Europe  and  America."  The  volume  at 
tained,  as  the  author  expected,  only  a  very  mod 
erate  success. 


HOME-LIFE.  115 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOME-LIFE. 
1850-1857. 

'  I  see  him  again  at  his  dwelling, 

"Where,  over  the  little  lake, 
The  rose-trees  droop  in  their  beauty 
To  meet  the  image  they  make." 

most  civilized  men  the  converging  point  of 
-*-  all  human  activities  is  home.  For  its  posses 
sion  they  toil  patiently  and  hopefully  through 
dreary  years  of  privation ;  for  its  enrichment  the 
fleets  of  commerce  whiten  every  sea,  penetrating 
far  into  the  zones  of  perpetual  heat  and  of  perpet 
ual  cold ;  for  its  ornamentation  the  fine  arts  in 
modern  times  exist  almost  as  exclusively  as  in  the 
early  ages  they  did  for  the  temples  of  the  gods ; 
to  define  its  rights,  legislators  meet  in  solemn  con 
claves;  to  fix  the  penalties  of  violating  its  sanc 
tity,  learned  jurists  adjust  the  delicate  scales  of 
law  and  ethics ;  for  its  protection,  soldiers  go  forth 
to  battle ;  and  even  the  weak  become  strong  when 
roused  for  its  preservation. 


116         LIFE   OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

The  most,  beautiful  part  of  our  poet's  life  is  that 
quiet  home-enjoyment  of  books  and  nature  that 
opened  a  perennial  fountain  of  youth  in  his  mind 
and  heart.  During  the  period  indicated  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter,  —  with  the  exception  of  the 
year  1852,  when  he  paid  a  brief  visit  to  Cuba, 
Europe,  and  the  Holy  Land,  —  his  daily  experi 
ence  contained  little  to  disturb  the  gentle  and 
tranquil  flow  of  domestic  enjoyment.  A  few 
hours  in  the  office  of  "  The  Post "  each  day 
brought  him  in  contact  with  the  business  of  his 
profession ;  but  his  cares  were  easily  laid  aside 
when  he  took  his  departure  from  the  scene  of 
labor. 

In  1845,  before  his  second  European  tour,  Bry 
ant  purchased  an  estate  lying  along  Hempstead 
Harbor,  on  Long  Island,  far  enough  from  the 
metropolis  to  be  a  secluded  country  residence, 
yet  not  so  far  as  to  make  access  to  his  business 
difficult.  The  building  upon  it  was  an  old-time 
square  structure,  built  in  1787  by  a  plain  Quaker, 
and  contained  large  old-fashioned  rooms.  In  1846, 
after  his  second  return  from  Europe,  Bryant  re 
modelled  the  house  to  suit  his  own  tastes,  add 
ing  lattices  to  the  porches  for  clambering  vines, 
and  building  bay-windows  for  the  sake  of  the 
landscape.  Outbuildings  of  a  picturesque  form 
and  grouping  were  erected,  and  choice  shade  and 
fruit  trees  were  planted  in  the  grounds.  The 


HOME-LIFE.  117 

hamlet  near  by  he  named  "  Roslyn,"  from  the  fact 
recorded  in  the  town  annals,  that,  when  the  Brit 
ish  left  Long  Island,  they  marched  out  of  Hemp- 
stead  to  the  tune  of  "  Roslyn  Castle."  The  estate 
itself  he  called  "  Cedarmere,"  and  by  this  name  it 
is  now  known. 

It  is  a  spot  fit  for  a  poet's  home.  Though  shel 
tered  by  the  hills  on  the  north,  the  windows  of 
the  mansion  command  a  noble  landscape,  in  which 
green  fields,  the  bright  waters  4of  the  bay,  and  the 
sails  of  the  vessels  on  its  bosom,  blend  in  a  picture 
of  surpassing  loveliness.  A  broad  green  lawn 
below  the  house  rims  "  the  little  lake,"  that  flows 
into  a  stream  between  banks  of  flowering  shrubs 
and  tangled  evergreens.  The  waters  turn  a  little 
mill,  housed  in  what  seems  to  be  a  Swiss  cottage 
overrun  with  vines,  till  the  music  of  its  machinery 
corrects  the  illusion  of  the  eye  through  the  per 
ception  of  the  ear.  In  the  garden  a  small  conser 
vatory  protects  the  blooming  exotics  during  the 
cold  season  of  the  year,  and  numerous  hotbeds 
assist  the  tender  plants  in  spring.  On  the  slope 
beyond  the  garden  stands  a 

"  lofty  group 

Of  ancient  pear-trees,  that  with  spring-time  burst 
Into  such  breadth  of  bloom," 

beneath  whose  branches  the  poet  enjoyed  his  "  an 
nual  festival  of  bees,"  and  "  songs  of  birds  within 


118         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

their  leafy  screen."  Here  is  the  swing  for  the 
little  people  of  the  neighborhood ;  and  every  year, 
when  the  season  of  fruitage  came,  the  poet  would 
sit  and  hear 

"  shouts 

Of  joy  from  the  children  gathering  up  the  fruit 
Shaken  in  August  from  the  willing  boughs." 

On  the  hill  above  the  mansion  are  apple-trees 
planted  by  the  poet's  own  hand,  with  sombre  ever 
greens  and  stately  maples.  From  among  these 
trees,  celebrated  in  the  poet's  verses,  we  look  away 
over  the  wooded  hills  far  out  on  the  waters  of  the 
bay,  dotted  with  white  sails,  and  ploughed  by  the 
majestic  steamers  that  move  like  vast  swans  upon 
its  surface,  till  the  clouds  and  the  low  hills  beyond 
limit  our  vision  with  a  dim  horizon. 

Within,  all  is  in  keeping  with  the  poetical  sur 
roundings  of  the  place :  and  we  may  speak  in  the 
present  tense ;  for  there  have  been  few  important 
changes  at  Cedarmere  for  many  years.  Its  propri 
etor's  early  travels  filled  its  rooms  with  memen 
tos  of  many  lands,  some  of  great  and  curious 
interest.  Always  an  admirer  of  art,  and  long 
intimate  with  artists,  his  fine  taste  enriched  his 
walls  with  the  choicest  paintings  and  engravings. 
Morse,  Weir,  Huntiiigton,  Ingraham,  Wall,  Du- 
rand,  Verbruyck,  Inman,  Cole,  and  Gourlie  were 
among  his  earliest  friends  in  New  York.  When 


HOME-LIFE.  119 

the  Academy  of  Design  was  first  established,  he 
had  interested  himself  in  its  prosperity  so  far  as  to 
deliver  a  course  of  lectures  on  Greek  and  Roman 
mythology  for  its  benefit.  Yet  his  private  collec 
tion  was  not  a  large  one ;  the  number  of  pieces 
being,  with  him,  of  less  importance  than  their 
merit. 

His  library  was  equally  choice,  though  large  for 
a  private  collection.  It  embraced  standard  au 
thorities  in  every  branch  of  general  knowledge, 
and  was  especially  rich  in  works  on  theology  and 
economic  science.  In  polite  literature,  particularly 
poetry,  it  was  even  more  complete.  The  ancient 
classics  in  the  best  editions  stood  on  the  shelves, 
with  the  masterpieces  of  French,  German,  Spanish, 
and  Italian  letters.  In  all  these  languages  Bry 
ant  read  much,  and  some  of  his  translations  show 
how  well. 

Elegance,  however,  never  took  the  place  of  com 
fort  in  the  poet's  household.  The  large,  well-ven 
tilated  rooms,  and  the  open  grates,  are  suggestive 
of  the  same  regard  for  hygienic  laws  in  the  house 
hold  economy  that  was  displayed  in  his  own  per 
sonal  dress  and  habits. 

After  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  to  Mr.  Parke 
Godwin,  his  family  consisted  of  his  wife  and  his 
daughter  Julia,  who  continued  to  brighten  his 
home  during  his  entire  lifetime. 

Although  he  also  had  a  New-York  residence,  and 


120         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BUY  ANT. 

finally  came  into  possession  of  the  homestead  at 
Cummington,  the  rural  retreat  at  Roslyn  was  for 
the  remainder  of  his  life  his  favorite  home;  and 
there  he  spent  most  of  the  time,  except  during  the 
months  of  winter.  These  were  passed  in  the  city. 
Cedarmere,  however,  will  always  be  known  as 
Bryant's  home.  There  he  found  the  retirement, 
and  fellowship  with  Nature,  that  were  his  chief 
pleasures ;  there  he  kept  the  most  valuable  of  his 
books ;  there  he  continued  to  write  his  poems  to 
the  last  years  of  life. 

In  Curtis's  "  Homes  of  American  Authors  "  we 
have  the  following  sketch  of  the  poet  as  he  was 
known  to  his  friends  during  the  earlier  period  of 
his  residence  at  Roslyn  :  — 

"  Mr.  Bryant's  habits  of  life  have  a  smack  of  ascetism, 
although  he  is  the  disciple  of  none  of  the  popular  schools 
which,  under  various  forms,  claim  to  rule  the  present  world 
in  that  direction.  Milk  is  more  familiar  to  his  lips  than 
wine  ;  yet  he  does  not  disdain  the  '  cheerful  hour,'  over  which 
moderation  presides.  He  eats  sparingly  of  animal  food;  but 
he  is  by  no  means  afraid  to  enjoy  roast  goose,  lest  he  should 
outrage  the  manes  of  his  ancestors,  like  some  modern  enthu 
siasts.  He  '  hears  no  music,'  if  it  be  fantastical ;  yet  his  ear 
is  finely  attuned  to  the  varied  harmonies  of  wood  and  wave. 
His  health  is  delicate,  yet  he  is  almost  never  ill ;  his  life 
laborious,  yet  carefully  guarded  against  excessive  and  ex 
haustive  fatigue.  He  is  a  man  of  rule,  but  none  the  less  toler 
ant  of  want  of  method  in  others  ;  strictly  self-governed,  but 
not  prone  to  censure  the  unwary  or  the  weak-willed.  In  re 
ligion  he  is  at  once  catholic  and  devout,  and  to  moral  excel- 


HOME-LIFE.  121 

lence  no  soul  bows  lower.  Placable  we  can  perhaps  hardly 
call  him,  for  impressions  on  his  mind  are  almost  indelible  ; 
but  it  may  with  the  strictest  truth  be  said,  that  it  requires  a 
great  offence  or  a  great  un worthiness  to  make  an  enemy  of 
him,  so  strong  is  his  sense  of  justice.  Not  amid  the  bustle 
and  dust  of  the  political  arena,  cased  in  armor  offensive  and 
defensive,  is  a  champion's  more  intimate  self  to  be  esti 
mated  ;  but  in  the  pavilion  or  the  bower,  where,  in  robes  of 
ease,  and  with  all  professional  ferocity  laid  aside,  we  see  his 
natural  form  and  complexion,  and  hear  in  placid  domestic 
tones  the  voice  so  lately  thundering  above  the  fight.  So  we 
willingly  follow  Mr.  Bryant  to  Roslyn ;  see  him  musing  on 
the  pretty  rural  bridge  that  spans  the  fish-pond ;  or  taking 
the  oar  in  his  daughter's  fairy  boat ;  or  pruning  trees ;  or 
talking  over  farm-matters  with  his  neighbors ;  or  ...  sitting 
calm  and  happy  in  his  pleasant  library,  surrounded  by  the 
friends  he  loves  to  draw  around  him;  or  listening  to  the 
prattle  of  infant-voices,  quite  as  much  at  home  there  as 
under  their  own  more  especial  roof,  —  his  daughter's, — 
within  the  same  enclosure. 

"In  person  Mr.  Bryant  is  quite  slender,  symmetrical,  and 
well-poised ;  in  carriage,  eminently  firm  and  self-possessed. 
He  is  fond  of  long  rural  walks  and  of  gymnastic  exercises, 
on  all  which  his  health  depends.  Poetical  composition  tries 
him  severely,  —  so  severely,  that  his  efforts  of  that  kind 
are  necessarily  rare.  His  are  no  holiday  verses ;  and  those 
who  urge  his  producing  a  long  poem  are,  perhaps,  propos 
ing  that  he  should,  in  gratifying  their  admiration,  build  for 
himself  a  monument  in  which  he  would  be  self -enveloped. 
Let  us  rather  content  ourselves  with  asking  '  a  few  more  of 
the  same,'  especially  of  the  later  poems,  in  which,  certainly, 
the  poet  trusts  his  fellows  with  a  nearer  and  more  intimate 
view  of  his  inner  and  peculiar  self  than  was  his  wont  in  ear 
lier  times.  Let  him  more  and  more  give  human  voice  to 


122        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

woods  and  waters,  and,  in  acting  as  the  accepted  interpreter 
of  Nature,  speak  fearlessly  to  the  heart  as  well  as  to  the  eye. 
His  countrymen  were  never  more  disposed  to  hear  him  with 
delight;  for,  since  the  public  demand  for  his  poems  has 
placed  a  copy  in  every  house  in  the  land,  [?]  the  taste  for 
them  has  steadily  increased,  and  the  national  pride  in  the 
writer's  genius  become  a  generous  enthusiasm,  which  is 
ready  to  grant  him  an  apotheosis  while  he  lives." 

The  coming  of  spring,  when  he  might  leave  the 
crowded  city  and  visit  the  country-side,  was  al 
ways  a  glad  season  for  him.  His  joy  at  its  return 
finds  expression  more  than  once,  but  especially  in 
these  lines  to  his  daughter,  entitled  "  An  Invita 
tion  to  the  Country :  "  — 

'  Already,  close  by  our  summer  dwelling, 
The  Easter  sparrow  repeats  her  song : 
A  merry  warbler,  she  chides  the  blossoms,  — 
The  idle  blossoms  that  sleep  so  long. 

The  bluebird  chants  from  the  elm's  long  branches 
A  hymn  to  welcome  the  budding  year  ; 

The  south  wind  wanders  from  field  to  forest, 
And  softly  whispers,  '  The  Spring  is  here ! ' 

Come,  daughter  mine,  from  the  gloomy  city, 
Before  those  lays  from  the  elm  have  ceased : 

The  violet  breathes  by  our  door  as  sweetly 
As  in  the  air  of  her  native  East. 

There  is  no  glory  in  star  or  blossom 

Till  looked  upon  by  a  loving  eye ; 
There  is  no  fragrance  in  April  breezes 

Till  breathed  with  joy  as  they  wander  by. 


HOME-LIFE.  123 

Come,  Julia  dear;  for  the  sprouting  willows, 
The  opening  flowers,  and  the  gleaming  brooks, 

And  hollows,  green  in  the  sun,  are  waiting 
Their  dower  of  beauty  from  thy  glad  looks." 

Bryant  was  often  called  upon  to  appear  on  pub 
lic  occasions  of  a  literary  character,  and  at  dinners 
in  honor  of  distinguished  men  who  received  the 
hospitality  of  his  adopted  city.  In  1848  he  had 
delivered  a  commemorative  oration  on  the  death 
of  Thomas  Cole  —  the  painter  of  "  The  Voyage  of 
Life  "  —  before  the  National  Academy  of  Design. 
In  December,  1851,  he  was  invited  to  preside  at 
a  banquet  given  in  honor  of  Louis  Kossuth,  the 
Hungarian  republican,  who  was  then  receiving 
ovations  from  his  American  admirers.  Kossuth 
had  himself  been  an  editor  in  Hungary,  and  the 
banquet  was  given  by  the  press  of  New  York. 
The  following  extract  will  serve  as  a  specimen  of 
Bryant's  eloquence  on  these  occasions :  — 

"  I  have  compared  the  exiled  Hungarians  to  the  great 
men  of  our  own  history.  Difficulty,  my  brethren,  is  the  nurse 
of  greatness,  —  a  harsh  nurse,  who  roughly  rocks  her  foster- 
children  into  strength  and  athletic  proportion.  The  mind 
grappling  with  great  aims,  and  wrestling  with  mighty  im 
pediments,  grows  by  a  certain  necessity  to  their  stature. 
Scarce  any  thing  so  convinces  me  of  the  capacity  of  the  hu 
man  intellect  for  indefinite  expansion  in  the  different  stages 
of  its  being  as  this  power  of  enlarging  itself  to  the  height 
and  compass  of  surrounding  emergencies.  These  men  have 
been  trained  to  greatness  by  a  quicker  and  surer  method 
than  a  peaceful  country  and  a  tranquil  period  can  know. 


124         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

"But  it  is  not  merely,  or  even  principally,  for  their 
personal  qualities,  that  we  honor  them  :  we  honor  them  for 
the  cause  in  which  they  so  gloriously  failed.  Great  issues 
hung  upon  that  cause,  and  great  interests  of  mankind  were 
crushed  by  its  downfall.  I  was  on  the  continent  of  Europe 
when  the  treason  of  Gorgey  laid  Hungary  bound  at  the 
feet  of  the  Czar.  Europe  was  at  that  time  in  the  midst  of 
the  re-action  :  the  ebb  tide  was  rushing  violently  back, 
sweeping  all  that  the  friends  of  freedom  had  planned  into 
the  black  bosom  of  the  deep.  In  France  the  liberty  of  the 
press  was  extinct ;  Paris  was  in  a  state  of  siege ;  the  sol 
diery  of  that  republic  had  just  quenched  in  blood  the  free 
dom  of  Rome.  Austria  had  suppressed  liberty  in  Northern 
Italy.  Absolutism  was  restored  in  Prussia :  along  the  Rhine 
and  its  tributaries,  and  in  the  towns  and  villages  of  Wir- 
temberg  and  Bavaria,  troops  withdrawn  from  the  barracks 
and  garrisons  filled  the  streets,  and  kept  the  inhabitants 
quiet  with  the  bayonet  at  their  breasts.  Hungary,  at  that 
moment,  alone  upheld  —  and  upheld  with  a  firm  hand  and 
dauntless  heart  —  the  blazing  torch  of  liberty.  To  Hungary 
were  turned  up  the  eyes,  to  Hungary  clung  the  hopes,  of  all 
who  did  not  despair  of  the  freedom  of  Europe. 

"  I  recollect,  that  while  the  armies  of  Russia  were  mov 
ing,  like  tempests  from  the  north,  upon  the  Hungarian  host, 
the  progress  of  events  was  watched  with  the  deepest  solici 
tude  by  the  people  of  Germany.  I  was  at  that  time  in 
Munich,  the  splendid  capital  of  Bavaria.  The  Bavarians 
seemed  for  the  time  to  have  put  off  their  usual  character, 
and  scrambled  for  the  daily  prints,  wet  from  the  press,  with 
such  eagerness,  that  I  almost  thought  myself  in  America. 
The  news  of  the  catastrophe  at  last  arrived :  Gorgey  had 
betrayed  the  cause  of  Hungary,  and  yielded  to  the  demands 
of  the  Russians.  Immediately  a  funeral  gloom  settled,  like 
a  noonday  darkness,  ut>on  the  city.  I  heard  the  muttered 


HOME-LIFE.  125 

exclamations  of  the  people,  'It  is  all  over!   the  last  hope 
of  European  liberty  is  gone  ! '  " l 

On  none  of  these  occasions  did  his  words  or 
manner  assume  the  tone  of  adulation  or  servility 
to  greatness.  "  I  have  seen  him,"  says  Mr.  George 
W.  Curtis,  "  at  some  offering  of  homage  to  a  for 
eign  guest,  skilfully  withstanding  the  current  of 
excessive  compliment  natural  at  such  times,  yet 
without  morose  dissent,  and  only  by  a  shrewd  and 
playful  humor,  and  with  a  most  friendly  regard 
for  the  rites  of  hospitality,  gently  reminding  us 
that  manly  and  self-respecting  courtesy  never  bows 
too  low." 

A  more  solemn  duty  was  placed  upon  Bryant 
in  the  following  year,  when  invited  to  pronounce 
a  discourse  on  the  life,  character,  and  writings  of 
James  Fenimore  Cooper  the  novelist,  who  had 
been  his  friend  at  the  beginning  of  his  literary 
career  in  New  York. 

In  1854  a  complete  collection  of  his  poems 
was  published  in  two  volumes.  "  When  the  last 
hour  shall  come  to  Bryant,"  says  a  contemporary 
critic,  "  how  much  will  he  leave  behind  him  that 
cannot  fade  or  die  !  For  ourselves,  so  completely 
interwoven  with  our  own,  for  at  least  a  quarter  of 
a  century,  have  been  Bryant's  recorded  emotions 
and  interpretations  of  Nature,  that  we  scarcely 
dare  trust  our  pen  with  the  expression  of  the 

1  Orations  and  Addresses,  pp.  262-264. 


126        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

honor  and  reverence  with  which  we  regard  the 
teachings  of  his  verse,  lest  we  might  be  thought 
to  exaggerate  them.  The  truth  is,  that  he  has  so 
wedded  himself  to  the  elements,  to  the  great  fea 
tures  of  Nature,  of  which  he  has  been  so  true  and 
faithful  an  exponent,  that  it  will  be  impossible, 
with  those  who  have  appreciated  his  deep  feeling 
and  fervent  poetry,  hereafter  to  dissociate  him 
from  them."  1 

i  Knickerbocker  Magazine,  December,  1854,  p  635. 


A  JOUBNEY  IN  SPAIN.  127 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  JOUBNEY  IN  SPAIN. 
1857-1859. 

"  He  has  crossed  the  mighty  ocean, 

To  realms  that  lie  afar, 
In  the  region  of  ancient  story, 
Beneath  the  morning-star." 

TDRYANT'S  fondness  for  travel,  and  the  ro- 
J— '  mantle  charms  of  old  Spain,  led  him  once 
more  across  the  ocean  for  the  purpose  of  spending 
some  months  in  the  cities  and  among  the  mountains 
of  that  land  of  chivalry.  Early  in  the  summer  of 
1857,  after  a  brief  visit  to  Paris,  he  travelled 
with  his  family  through  Germany,  Switzerland, 
and  Southern  France,  proceeding  in  the  autumn 
through  the  passes  of  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Basque 
Provinces  by  diligence,  sometimes  slowly  drawn 
through  the  grand  scenery  of  these  regions  by 
teams  of  oxen.  The  letters  in  which  he  describes 
this  journey  partake  of  the  freshness  and  pictu- 
resqueness  of  the  scenes  among  which  they  were 
penned,  and  have  for  American  readers  all  the  in- 


128         LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

terest  that  gathers  round  the  ancient  monasteries, 
the  moss-grown  cathedrals,  the  crumbling  palaces, 
and  the  ferocious  sports,  of  that  land  of  story  and 
of  song.  An  entire  month  was  spent  in  the  pas 
sage  from  San  Sebastian,  in  the  north  of  Spain, 
to  Madrid.  During  this  period  the  poet  and  his 
family  ate,  drank,  slept,  and  travelled  in  the  Span 
ish  fashion,  coming  constantly  into  contact  with 
the  people  of  the  provinces  in  their  every-day  life. 
Nowhere  in  our  literature  is  that  life  presented 
with  more  graphic  detail  than  in  Bryant's  letters. 

At  Las  Huelgas,  where  Ferdinand  received  his 
knighthood,  and  where  all  the  infantas  of  Spain 
are  buried,  the  lady  abbess  of  the  convent,  "a 
lady  of  a.  lively  aspect,"  inquired,  "  And  these 
friends  of  ours  —  where  do  they  come  from  ?  "  — 
"  From  America."  —  "  Ah  !  I  have  a  nephew  in 
America,  at  Cordova  in  Peru;  and  he  likes  the 
place  much :  perhaps  they  know  him."  "  We  had 
a  little  difficulty,"  runs  the  narrative,  "  in  making 
clear  to  her  mind  the  distance  between  New  York 
and  Cordova  in  Peru;  but  she  went  on  to  give 
the  history  of  her  nephew,  his  wanderings,  and  his 
settlement  at  last  in  Peru."  l 

During  a  sojourn  of  three  weeks  in  Madrid. 
Bryant  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  American 
minister,  Mr.  Dodge,  the  ex-ambassador  from  Spain 
to  the  United  States,  Mr.  Calderon,  and  many  other 

1  Letters  from  Spain,  p.  99. 


A  JOURNEY  IN  SPAIN.  129 

distinguished  gentleman.  "  Here  at  Madrid,"  he 
writes,  "  they  live  on  very  unceremonious  terms 
with  each  other,  dropping  in  at  each  other's  houses 
in  the  evening,  and  calling  each  other  by  their 
Christian  names,  without  the  prefix  of  Don  or 
Dona.  They  get,  perhaps,  if  any  thing,  a  cup  of 
tea  or  chocolate,  and  a  biscocho.  I  was  several 
times  at  the  house  of  a  literary  lady  of  Madrid, 
and  saw  there  some  of  the  most  eminent  men 
of  Spain,  statesmen,  jurists,  ecclesiastics,  authors, 
leaders  of  the  liberal  party,  and  chiefs  of  the  abso 
lutists,  who  came  and  went  with  almost  as  little 
ceremony  as  if  they  met  on  the  Prado.  The  tertu- 
lia  is  something  more  than  this:  there  is  more 
dress,  illumination,  numbers ;  but  the  refreshments 
are  almost  as  frugally  dispensed.  The  stranger  in 
Spain  does  not  find  himself  excluded  from  native 
society  as  he  does  in  Italy,  but  is  at  once  intro 
duced  to  it  on  the  same  footing  with  the  natives/' 
He  found  one  strong  objection,  however,  to  the 
social  habits  of  the  Spanish  capital,  —  that  visitors 
began  to  call  on  their  friends  about  nine  oclock  in 
the  evening,  and  remained  till  "  some  time  among 
the  short  hours  beyond  midnight."  The  example, 
he  says,  was  set  by  the  queen,  who  took  her  morn 
ing  ride  through  the  city  soon  after  sunset  I 

During  his  stay  in  Madrid,  Bryant  attended  the 
ceremony  of  conferring  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Philosophy  by  the  University.  Aside  from  the 


130        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

interest  attaching  to  this  ceremony  from  the  mag 
nificent  manner  in  which  it  is  performed,  there  is 
a  reason  which  every  American  will  appreciate 
why  the  following  description  should  be  quoted 
here :  — 

"  At  the  farther  end  of  the  hall  was  a  raised  platform,  on 
which  were  seated  the  officers  of  the  university,  at  a  sort 
of  desk  ;  and  in  front  of  them,  on  benches  on  each  side,  the 
doctors  of  the  different  sciences,  in  their  peculiar  costume. 
All  wore  ample  black  gowns ;  but  they  were  distinguished 
from  each  other  by  their  caps,  and  the  broad  capes  on  their 
shoulders,  both  of  which  were  of  lustrous  silks.  The  capes 
and  caps  of  the  doctors  of  theology  were  white ;  those  of  the 
doctors  of  philosophy,  blue ;  the  men  of  the  law  flamed  in 
red  ;  the  men  of  medicine  glistened  in  yellow ;  the  doctors 
of  pharmacy  glowed  in  purple.  On  each  side  of  the  presid 
ing  officer  stood  a  macer,  in  black  gown  and  cap,  bearing  his 
massive  club  of  office ;  and  on  the  front  edge  of  the  platform, 
looking  down  upon  the  audience,  stood  two  janitors,  dressed 
in  the  same  manner,  but  with  black  plumes  nodding  in  their 
caps.  After  a  strain  of  music,  a  young  man,  sitting  on  a 
front  bench  on  the  right  side  of  the  platform,  and  dressed  in 
the  costume  of  a  doctor  of  philosophy,  turned  his  face  to  the 
presiding  officer,  and  began  to  speak.  '  It  is  Emilio  Cas-  • 
telar,'  said  my  Spanish  friend  :  '  he  is  one  of  the  professors 
of  philosophy,  gran  democrata,  y  muy  elocuente.  He  is  not 
more  than  twenty-four  years  old,  and  yet  he  is  a  great  advo 
cate.'  I  observed  the  young  man  more  narrowly:  he  had  a 
round,  youthful  face,  jet-black  mustaches,  and  a  bold  fore 
head  :  he  gesticulated  with  Spanish  vivacity  in  yellow  kid 
gloves.  I  was  not  near  enough  to  hear  very  well  what  he 
said :  but  his  discourse,  delivered  in  earnest,  impressive 
tones,  seemed  to  take  a  strong  hold  of  the  audience,  for 


A  JOUENEY  IN   SPAIN.  131 

they  leaned  forward  with  deep  attention ;  and  at  the  pauses 
I  could  hear  the  murmur  of  '  Muy  Uen !  muy  bien  dicko  ! '  " l 

Leaving  Madrid  about  the  middle  of  November, 
he  passed  leisurely  through  the  valley  of  the  Man- 
zanares,  the  well-wooded  districts  of  Aranjuez,  the 
dreary  wastes  of  La  Mancha,  and  Murcia,  the  land 
of  fruits,  most  of  the  way  in  a  rude  cart  drawn 
by  a  tandem  team,  but  often  walking  for  miles 
through  the  thick  mud  of  a  Spanish  autumn, — 
a  form  of  exercise  in  which  the  ladies  of  the 
party  also  shared.  At  the  ancient  and  decayed 
town  of  Alicante  he  left  his  family  to  take  the 
steamer  to  Cartagena,  and  proceeded  alone  to 
that  city.  After  spending  some  days  in  reading 
the  old  Roman  inscriptions  and  inspecting  the 
remains  of  Moorish  architecture  with  which  the 
place  abounds,  he  rejoined  his  family  on  the  arri 
val  of  the  steamer,  and  embarked  for  Malaga. 

Early  in  December  the  party  paid  a  visit  to 
Grenada,  the  former  seat  of  Moorish  power  and 
magnificence.  Although  Bryant  modestly  de 
clares,  that,  after  what  Irving  has  written  of  it,  he 
would  as  soon  think  of  attempting  a  poem  on  the 
wrath  of  Achilles,  in  competition  with  Homer,  as 
of  describing  the  Alhambra,  the  following  passage 
of  description  has  hardly  been  surpassed  even  by. 
that  charming  writer :  — 

"  If  in  any  respect  the  Alhambra  did  not  correspond  with 
1  Letters  from  Spain,  pp.  139,  140. 


132        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEX  BKYANT. 

the  idea  I  had  previously  formed  of  it,  it  was  in  the  minute 
ness  of  its  ornamentation.  I  did  not  expect  that  the  figures 
into  which  the  surface  of  its  walls  is  wrought,  and  which 
yet,  in  most  places,  preserve  the  sharp  outline  of  a  stereo 
type-plate,  would  prove  to  be  no  larger  than  some  engrav 
ings  in  which  they  are  represented.  Yet  this  very  minute 
ness,  I  must  admit,  harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  general 
character  of  the  architecture,  which  is  that  of  the  utmost 
lightness  and  delicacy  possible  in  buildings  of  stone.  The 
architecture  of  the  Alhambra  is  that  of  the  harem :  it  is  the 
architecture  of  a  race  who  delighted  in  voluptuous  ease; 
who  wrapped  themselves  in  soft  apparel,  and  lolled  upon 
divans.  The  Alhambra  was  the  summer  palace  of  the 
Moorish  monarchs;  a  place  of  luxurious  retreat  from  the 
relaxing  heats  of  the  season ;  a  place  of  shade  and  running 
waters ;  courting  the  entrance  of  the  winds  under  its  arches 
and  between  its  slender  pillars,  yet  spreading  a  screen 
against  the  sunshine.  To  this  end  the  stones  of  the  quarry 
were  shaped  into  a  bower,  with  columns  as  light  as  the 
stems  of  the  orange-trees  planted  in  its  courts,  and  walls 
incrusted  with  scroll-work  and  foliage  as  delicate  as  the 
leaves  of  the  myrtle  growing  by  its  fountains.  Yet  the 
most  remarkable  parts  of  the  Alhambra  are  those  lofty 
rooms  with  circular  vaults  from  which  hang  innumerable 
little  points  like  icicles,  with  rounded  recesses  between 
them.  These  are  as  strangely  beautiful  as  a  dream,  and 
translate  into  a  visible  reality  the  poetic  idea  of  a  sparry 
cavern  formed  by  genii  in  the  chambers  of  the  rock."  l 

The  garden  of  the  Moorish  kings  was  no  long 
er  open  to  visitors;  but  a  letter  to  the  governor 
of  the  Alhambra,  which  Bryant  had  received  at 
Madrid,  procured  admission  for  his  party.  An- 

i  Letters  from  Spain,  p.  205. 


A  JOURNEY  IN   SPAIN.  133 

other  letter,  from  Archbishop  Hughes,  obtained 
access  to  the  relics  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
in  the  royal  chapel  of  the  cathedral.  As  they 
stood  before  the  grand  mausoleum  of  the  sover 
eigns  on  which  the  royal  effigies  lie  crowned 
and  sceptred,  "  Do  you  perceive,"  said  one  of  the 
party,  "  that  the  head  of  Ferdinand  makes  scarcely 
any  impression  on  his  pillow,  while  the  head  of 
Isabella  sinks  deep  into  hers?  The  artist,  no 
doubt,  intended  to  signify  that  the  queen's  head 
was  much  better  furnished  than  that  of  her 
consort." 

After  spending  a  few  days  in  Grenada,  the  city 
of  ugly  streets  and  beautiful  women,  the  party 
returned  to  Malaga.  A  visit  to  Cadiz  and  Seville 
was  intended,  but  finally  given  up;  and  they 
embarked  in  a  steamer  for  Marseilles  by  way  of 
Oran  and  Algiers  about  the  middle  of  December. 
A  brief  visit  to  the  African  coast  sufficed  to  show 
them  enough  of  its  mixed  population,  and  in  a 
few  days  they  landed  at  Marseilles. 

The  following  winter  (1858)  was  passed  in  Italy, 
chiefly  in  the  vicinity  of  Naples.  Bryant's  resi 
dence  in  Naples  was  marked  by  two  memorable 
events,  — his  baptism,  and  his  wife's  recovery  from 
a  serious  illness. 

Trained  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Congregational 
Church  of  New  England,  he  had  always  manifested 
a  regard  for  divine  revelation,  and  all  parts  of  his 


134        LITE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

life  had  been  conformed  to  the  most  rigid  principles 
of  morality.  After  his  removal  to  New  York,  he 
had  attended  a  Unitarian  church  under  the  min 
istry  of  the  Rev.  William  Ware,  known  in  litera 
ture  by  his  "  Letters  from  Palmyra."  At  Roslyn 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  worshipping  irr  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  had  manifested  much 
interest  in  its  prosperity.  His  religious  emotions 
had  frequently  found  expression  in  his  poems,  and 
especially  in  several  hymns  which  he  had  written 
at  the  request  of  friends :  yet  he  had  never  made 
a  public  profession  of  religion.  During  his  visit  at 
Naples  he  met  a  former  acquaintance, — the  Rev. 
R.  C.  Waterston,  a  Unitarian  minister  of  Boston, 
who,  with  his  family,  was  temporarily  living  in 
Italy.  They  were  frequently  thrown  together  in 
their  rambles ;  and  one  day,  while  walking  along 
the  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  the  poet  opened 
his  heart  to  his  friend,  spoke  of  the  sweetness  of 
religion  to  him,  and  proposed  that  he  be  baptized. 
That  evening,  in  the  presence  of  seven,  in  an  upper 
room  in  Naples,  with  prayer  and  hymns,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-four,  the  poet  submitted  to  the  rite 
of  consecration,  and  in  apostolic  retirement  par 
took  of  the  holy  communion. 

How  sincere  his  acceptance  of  religion  was,  the 
modesty  of  this  profession,  and  the  record  of  his 
life,  sufficiently  demonstrate.  Twenty  years  later, 
when  his  friends  gathered  for  the  last  time  about 


A   JOURNEY  m  SPAIN.  135 

his  remains,  his  pastor,  the  Eev.  Dr.  Bellows  of 
All  Souls'  Church,  paid  this  tribute  to  the  purity 
of  his  life  :  — 

"I  must  reserve  the  few  moments  still  left  me  to  bear  the 
testimony,  which  no  one  has  a  better  right  to  offer,  to  Mr. 
Bryant's  strictly  religious  character.  A  devoted  lover  of 
religious  liberty,  he  was  an  equal  lover  of  religion  itself,  — 
not  in  any  precise  dogmatic  form,  but  in  its  righteousness, 
reverence,  and  charity.  What  his  theology  was  you  may 
safely  infer  from  his  regular  and  long  attendance  in  this 
place  of  Christian  worship.  Still  he  was  not  a  dogmatist, 
but  preferred  practical  piety  and  working  virtue  to  all  modes 
of  faith.  What  was  obvious  in  him  for  twenty  years  past 
was  an  increasing  respect  and  devotion  to  religious  insti 
tutions,  and  a  more  decided  Christian  quality  in  his  faith. 
I  think  he  had  never  been  a  communicant  in  any  church 
until  he  joined  ours,  fifteen  years  ago.  From  that  time, 
nobody  so  regular  in  his  attendance  on  public  worship,  in 
wet  and  dry,  cold  and  heat,  morning  and  evening,  until  the 
very  last  month  of  his  life.  The  increasing  sweetness  and 
beneficence  of  his  character,  meanwhile,  must  have  struck 
his  familiar  friends.  His  last  years  were  his  devoutest  and 
most  humane  years.  He  became  beneficent  as  he  grew  able 
to  be  so;  and  his  hand  was  open  to  all  just  need,  and  to 
many  unreasonable  claimants. 

"  The  first  half  or  even  two-thirds  of  his  life  had  been  a 
hard  struggle  with  fortune;  and  he  had  acquired  saving 
habits,  thanks  chiefly  to  the  prudence  of  his  honored  and 
ever-lamented  wife.  But  the  moment  he  became  successful, 
and  acquired  the  means  of  beneficence,  he  practised  it  boun 
tifully,  indeed,  perhaps  often  credulously ;  for  he  was  simple- 
hearted  and  unsuspecting,  easily  misled  by  women's  tears 
and  entreaties,  and  not  always  with  the  fortitude  to  say  'No ' 


136         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

when  only  his  own  money  was  at  stake.  Indeed,  he  had 
few  defensive  weapons  either  against  intrusion  or  supplica 
tion,  and  could  with  difficulty  withstand  the  approaches  of 
those  that  fawned  upon  him,  or  those  that  asked  his  counte 
nance  for  selfish  purposes.  Perhaps  he  understood  their 
weaknesses ;  but  he  had  not  the  heart  to  medicine  them  with 
brave  refusal. 

"  I  shall  have  spoken  in  vain  if  I  have  not  left  upon  your 
hearts  the  image  of  an  upright,  sincere,  humane,  and  simple 
yet  venerable  manhood,  — a  life  full  of  outward  honors  and 
inward  worth.  When  I  consider  that  I  have  been  speaking 
of  one  whose  fame  fills  the  world,  I  feel  how  vain  is  public 
report  compared  with  the  honor  of  God  and  the  gratitude 
and  love  of  humanity.  It  is  the  private  character  of  this 
unaffected  Christian  man  that  it  most  concerns  us  to  con 
sider  and  to  imitate.  He  was  great  as  the  world  counts 
greatness:  he  was  greater  as  God  counts  it." 

Soon  after  his  baptism,  lie  suffered  a  severe 
trial  in  the  protracted  illness  of  his  wife.  He  had 
taken  rooms  at  the  Vittoria  Hotel,  overlooking 
the  beautiful  Bay  of  Naples.  "  The  grand  penin 
sula  of  Posilipo,  studded  with  stately  country- 
seats,  and  overhanging  the  sea  with  its  tall  gray 
precipices,  bounds  the  sight  to  the  west;  to  the 
east  you  have  a  view  of  Castellamare  and  Sor 
rento,  with  their  background  of  airy  mountain- 
summits;  in  front  rises  the  rocky  Isle  of  Capri; 
and  close  at  hand  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean 
dash  and  murmur  all  day  and  all  night  on  the 
shingly  beach  in  front  of  the  houses.  The  glorious 


A  JOUHNEY  IN   SPAIN.  187 

prospects,  the  broad  open  streets  full  of  Neapolitan 
bustle,  and  the  warm  winter  sunshine,  allure  travel 
lers  to  fix  themselves  in  this  part  of  Naples  in  pref 
erence  to  any  other.  Yet  this  beautiful  quarter 
has  a  bad  reputation  for  health  among  the  Neapoli 
tans."  In  this  deceptive  atmosphere  Mrs.  Bryant 
contracted  a  nervous  fever  which  threatened  her 
life.  After  her  removal  from  the  shore  to  the 
higher  ground  among  the  gardens,  she  began  grad 
ually  to  improve ;  but  the  poet  long  walked  in  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Her  final  resto 
ration  to  health  was  celebrated  in  a  song  of  glad 
ness  and  triumph,  dated  at  Castellamare,  May, 
1858,  under  the  title  "  The  Life  That  Is :  "  - 

"  Thou  MTho  so  long  hast  pressed  the  couch  of  pain, 

Oh,  welcome,  welcome  back  to  life's  free  breath,  — 
To  life's  free  breath  and  day's  sweet  light  again, 
From  the  chill  shadows  of  the  gate  of  death  ! 

For  thou  hadst  reached  the  twilight  found  between 
The  world  of  spirits  and  this  grosser  sphere  : 

Dimly  by  thee  the  things  of  earth  were  seen, 
And  faintly  fell  earth's  voices  on  thine  ear. 

And  now  how  gladly  we  behold,  at  last, 
The  wonted  smile  returning  to  thy  brow ! 

The  very  wind's  low  whisper,  breathing  past 
In  the  light  leaves,  is  music  to  thee  now. 


138         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

Twice  wert  thou  given  me  :  once  in  thy  fair  prime, 
Fresh  from  the  fields  of  youth,  when  first  we  met, 

And  all  the  blossoms  of  that  hopeful  time 

Clustered  and  glowed  where'er  thy  steps  were  set. 

And  now,  in  thy  ripe  autumn,  once  again  , 

Given  back  to  fervent  prayers  and  yearnings  strong, 

From  the  drear  realm  of  sickness  and  of  pain, 
Where  we  had  watched  and  feared  and  trembled  long. 

Now  may  we  keep  thee  from  the  balmy  air 
And  radiant  walks  of  heaven  a  little  space, 

Where  He  who  went  before  thee  to  prepare 
For  his  meek  followers  shall  assign  thy  place." 

Early  in  the  summer  Bryant  and  his  family 
passed  through  the  cities  of  Northern  Italy  to 
England,  and  in  August  returned  to  their  home 
at  Roslyn,  after  an  absence  of  more  than  a  year. 
The  letters  written  to  "  The  Post "  during  this 
period  were  collected  in  a  volume,  and  published 
in  the  following  year  under  the  title  of  "  Letters 
from  Spain  and  Other  Countries." 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.        139 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS. 
1858-1878. 

"  I  am  gazing  into  the  twilight, 

Where  the  dim-seen  meadows  lie; 
And  the  wind  of  night  is  swaying 
The  trees  with  a  heavy  sigh." 

"TTTHEN  sixty  years  have  been  passed  in  pro 
V  V  fessional  pursuits,  and  in  rambling  about 
the  world,  life  has  little  left  but  repetition.  Our 
boy-poet  has  become  a  venerable  man,  with  silvered 
hair  and  beard.  A  celebrity  in  literature  for  forty 
years,  a  well-known  journalist  for  almost  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  a  traveller  in  every  division  of  the 
.globe,  Bryant  at  sixty-four  was  recognized  by  his 
countrymen  as  a  patriarch  in  letters.  Hence  we 
have  grouped  in  this  chapter  the  remaining  events 
of  the  poet's  life,  though  covering  a  period  of 
twenty  years. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  his  journey  in  Eu 
rope,  he  was  called  upon  to  deliver  an  address  at 
a  festival  in  honor  of  the  poet  Schiller,  paying  a 


140         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

glowing  tribute  to  the  genius  and  character  of  his 
brother  bard,  of  whose  works  he  was  a  faithful 
student  and  a  warm  admirer.  Not  long  afterward 
he  delivered  a  commemorative  oration  on  Wash 
ington  Irving,  —  a  noble  review  of  a  beautiful  and 
beneficent  life.  Bryant  was  particularly  fitted, 
and  frequently  chosen,  for  this  kind  of  public  ser 
vice.  Some  years  later,  he  pronounced  orations 
of  a  similar  character  in  memory  of  his  friends 
Fitz-Greene  Halleck  and  Gulian  C.  Verplanck. 
His  manner  on  these  occasions  was  modest  almost 
to  manifest  diffidence ;  his  delivery  clear,  but  un 
demonstrative.  He  was  peculiarly  averse  to  per 
sonal  notoriety, — not  only  never  seeking  it,  but 
even  striving  strenuously  to  avoid  it.  His  appear 
ance  on  the  platform  was  in  compliance  with  a 
sense  of  duty,  and  a  regard  for  the  wishes  of 
others ;  and  he  was  glad  when  his  part  was  per 
formed,  that  he  might  retire  from  the  notice  of 
men  to  the  society  of  home  and  friends.  We  are 
assured  by  an  editorial  associate  that  "  the  im 
passive  exterior,  which  misled  many  observers  to 
believe  the  heart  beneath  it  cold,  was  only  the 
result  of  an  unconquerable  diffidence." 

Though  often  urged  to  accept  public  positions 
of  honor  and  of  trust,  he  was  neither  an  office- 
seeker  nor  an  office-holder.  In  his  early  life  at 
Great  Barrington,  he  was  a  justice  of  the  peace 
and  town-clerk ;  but,  in  the  years  when  the  public 


A   PATRIARCH   IN   LETTERS.  141 

eye  turned  toward  him  as  a  suitable  occupant  of 
high  positions,  he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to 
fill  them.  In  1860,  however,  he  allowed  himself 
to  be  made  a  Presidential  elector,  and  voted  for 
Abraham  Lincoln.  Afterwards,  when  his  name 
was  mentioned  by  President  Lincoln  for  desirable 
foreign  missions,  he  would  not  consent  to  have  his 
nomination  placed  before  the  Senate.  He  was 
content  to  exercise  the  common  rights  of  an  Amer 
ican  citizen,  and  quietly  presented  his  ballot  at 
the  polls  beside  the  humblest  of  his  employees. 

In  1864  the  Century  Club,  of  which  the  poet 
was  one  of  the  founders,  celebrated  his  seventieth 
birthday  with  a  festival,  at  which  the  Hon.  George 
Bancroft  presided.  In  reply  to  Mr.  Bancroft's 
speech,  the  venerable  bard  made  an  address,  which, 
for  mingled  beauty,  pathos,  and  humor,  was  one 
of  the  happiest  of  his  life  :  — 

"  I  am  congratulated  [he  said]  on  having  completed  my 
seventieth  year.  Is  there  nothing  ambiguous,  Mr.  Presi 
dent,  in  such  a  compliment  ?  —  to  be  congratulated  on  hav 
ing  reached  that  stage  of  life  when  the  bodily  and  mental 
powers  pass  into  decline  and  decay!  Lear  is  made  by 
Shakespeare  to  say, 

'  Age  is  unnecessary.' 

And  a  later  poet,  Dr.  Johnson,  expressed  the  same  idea  in 
one  of  his  sonorous  lines,  — 

'  Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage,' 

You  have  not  forgotten,  Mr.  President,  the  old  Greek  say 
ing,  — 


142        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

'Whom  the  gods  love  die  young; ' 
nor  the  passage  in  Shakespeare,  — 

'  O  sir  1  the  good  die  first, 

And  they  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer  dust 
Burn  to  the  socket.'  " 

In  the  same  playful  strain  he  continues :  — 

"  What  a  world  would  this  be  if  it  were  made  up  of  old 
men !  —  generation  succeeding  to  generation,  of  hoary  an 
cients  who  had  but  half  a  dozen  years,  or  perhaps  half  that 
time,  to  live  !  What  new  work  would  be  attempted  ?  what 
existing  abuse  or  evil  corrected  ?  What  strange  subjects 
would  such  a  world  afford  for  the  pencils  of  our  artists  I  — 
groups  of  superannuated  graybeards  basking  in  the  sun 
through  the  long  days  of  spring,  or  huddling  like  sheep  in 
warm  corners  in  the  winter-time  ;  houses  with  the  timbers 
dropping  apart ;  cities  in  ruins ;  roads  unwrought  and  im 
passable  ;  weedy  gardens,  and  fields  with  the  surface  feebly 
scratched  to  put  in  a  scanty  harvest ;  feeble  old  men  climb 
ing  into  crazy  wagons,  perhaps  to  be  run  away  with,  or 
mounting  horses,  if  they  mounted  them  at  all,  in  terror  of 
being  hurled  from  their  backs  like  a  stone  from  a  sling. 
Well  it  is  that  in  this  world  of  ours  the  old  men  are  but 
a  very  small  minority."  l 

With  a  light  play  of  fancy  he  speaks  of  a  trans 
forming  restorative,  and  the  festival  of  joy  over 
youth  regained,  instantly  to  banish  the  "vain 
dream  ;  "  "  since  it  is  only  by  passing  through  the 
dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  that  man  can 
reach  his  second  youth." 

In   the   year   1864  Bryant   completed   his    im- 

i  Orations  and  Addresses,  pp.  305,  306. 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       143 

provements  on  the  homestead  at  Cummington, 
which  he  had  previously  purchased,  and  enlarged 
to  an  estate  of  about  four  hundred  acres.  The 
house  in  which  he  was  born  had  been  replaced  by 
a  different  structure ;  and  this  was  repaired  and 
remodelled  to  suit  the  taste  of  its  last  owner,  mak 
ing  it  as  it  now  stands,  —  a  spacious  and  rambling 
mansion  of  two  stories  and  a  half,  with  a  curb- 
roof,  antique  dormer-windows,  and  broad  porches 
curtained  with  clambering  vines,  and  surrounded 
with  a  smooth-shaven  lawn.  Here  the  poet  kept 
part  of  his  library,  and  had  a  pleasant  study ;  and 
here,  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  he  spent  the 
autumn  among  the  variegated  foliage  of  the  forest- 
trees  and  the  golden  fruitage  of  his  orchards. 
Here  he  founded  a  public  library  for  the  use  of 
his  rural  neighbors,  and  built  a  substantial  school- 
house  for  the  education  of  their  children.  These 
benefactions  were  made  without  the  slightest  os 
tentation,  and  from  the  purest  regard  for  the  hap 
piness  and  improvement  of  those  around  him. 
The  entire  community  paid  him  the  tribute  of 
respect  and  affection,  and,  when  he  died,  mourned 
for  him  as  for  a  beloved  father. 

A  similar  interest  in  the  people  of  Roslyn,  and  a 
similar  regard  on  their  part,  marked  his  residence 
at  his  favorite  summer  home.  Here  he  built  a 
beautiful  hall  for  public  uses.  "  When,  at  his  re 
quest,"  says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bellows,  "  I  went  to  dedi- 


144         LITE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

cate  it,  and  at  a  proper  moment  asked,  ;  What 
shall  we  call  this  building  ? '  the  audience  shouted, 
4  Bryant  Hall ! '  — 4  No,'  said  the  modest  benefac 
tor;  'let  it  be  known  and  called  simply  "The 
Hall :  "  '  and  '  The  Hall '  it  was  baptized." 

In  the  summer  of.  1866  the  great  shadow  of  Bry 
ant's  life  fell  upon  him.  His  devoted  wife,  whose 
benign  presence  had  for  forty-five  years  illumined 
his  home,  whose  prudence  had  laid  the  founda 
tion  of  his  fortune,  whose  piety  had  filled  him 
with  spiritual  aspirations,  whose  companionship 
had  cheered  him  in  foreign  lands,  was  called  to 
"the  radiant  walks  of  heaven."  The  bereaved 
poet  could  not  think  of  her  as  absent ;  and  when 
the  calm,  sweet  sunshine  of  October  fell  upon  the 
grassy  mound  where  she  was  laid  beneath  the 
flowers  of  June,  he  wrote,  — 

"  May  we  not  think  that  near  us  thou  dost  stand 

With  loving  ministrations  ?  for  we  know 
Thy  heart  was  never  happy  when  thy  hand 
Was  forced  its  tasks  of  mercy  to  forego. 

Mayst  thou  not  prompt  with  every  coming  day 
The  generous  aim  and  act,  and  gently  win 

Our  restless,  wandering  thoughts  to  turn  away 
From  every  treacherous  path  that  ends  in  sin  ?  " 

But  the  bright  illusion  could  not  satisfy  his 
longing.  A  better  faith  drew  his  thoughts  and 
desires  to  a  higher  sphere;  and  a  little  later  he 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       145 

wrote  the  sweet  sad  verses,  in  the  poem  called  "  A 
Lifetime,"  — 

"  And  well  I  know  that  a  brightness 

From  his  life  has  passed  away, 
And  a  smile  from  the  green  earth's  beauty, 
And  a  glory  from  the  day. 

But  I  behold  above  him, 

In  the  far  blue  depths  of  air, 
Dim  battlements  shining  faintly, 

And  a  throng  of  faces  there  ] 

See  over  crystal  barrier 

The  airy  figures  bend 
Like  those  who  are  watching  and  waiting 

The  coming  of  a  friend. 

And  one  there  is  arriong  them, 

With  a  star  upon  her  brow, 
In  her  life  a  lovely  woman, 

A  sinless  seraph  now. 

I  know  the  sweet  calm  features, 

The  peerless  smile  I  know; 
And  I  stretch  my  arms  with  transport 

From  where  I  stand  below. 

And  the  quick  tears  drown  my  eyelids ; 

But  the  airy  figures  fade, 
And  the  shining  battlements  darken, 

And  blend  with  the  evening  shade. 

I  am  gazing  into  the  twilight, 

Where  the  dim-seen  meadows  lie ; 
And  the  wind  of  night  is  swaying 

The  trees  with  a  heavy  sigh." 


146         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Though  crushed  in  spirit  by  the  heavy  blow,  the 
venerable  man  indulged  in  no  bitter  misanthropy 
or  childish  lamentations.  With  a  brave  and  reso 
lute  heart  he  strove  to  live  the  strong,  manly  life 
that  he  has  held  up  to  the  world  as  an  ideal  in  the 
last  paragraph  of  "  Thanatopsis,"  — 

"  Sustained  and  soothed  by  an  unfaltering  trust." 

The  following  year  he  once  more  crossed  the  At 
lantic,  but  found  more  satisfaction  in  quiet  work  at 
home.  In  1863  he  had  published  in  his  "  Thirty 
Poems"  a  blank-verse  translation  of  the  Fifth 
Book  of  Homer's  "  Odyssey."  It  had  been  sug 
gested  by  the  "  very  great  defects  "  of  Cowper's 
translation,  which,  he  thought,  had  failed  to  repro 
duce  in  English  the  simple  style,  the  fire,  and  the 
rapid  movement,  of  the  original.  His  attempt  in 
translating  the  Fifth  Book  of  "  The  Odyssey  "  had 
been  to  present  a  true  copy  of  the  original  in  idio 
matic  English,  —  a  result  not  previously  attained 
by  any  translator  of  Homer.  As  labor  was  now  a 
consolation  to  him,  he  devoted  himself  with  vigor 
to  the  translation  of  "  The  Iliad ;  "  which,  however, 
he  had  begun  in  the  previous  year.  His  regular 
daily  task  was  forty  lines ;  but,  when  the  spirit  of 
the  ancient  bard  most  fully  possessed  him,  he 
often  closed  the  day  with  eighty.  Like  other 
great  writers,  he  was  not  wholly  the  master  of  his 
inspiration ;  though  the  habits  of  journalism  train 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.        147 

one  to  a  daily  capacity  of  production.  When 
asked  by  a  friend  if  he  could  force  himself  to  po 
etical  composition  at  all  times,  his  simple  answer 
was,  "  Certainly  not." 

In  addition  to  his  daily  task  of  translating,  he 
was  constantly  contributing  to  the  editorial  col 
umns  of  "  The  Post,"  and  engaging  in  other  liter 
ary  labors.  Among  these  are  his  introductions  to 
publications  upon  which  his  work  was  mainly 
supervisory,  rather  than  constructive ;  such  as 
"The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,"  "Pictu 
resque  America,"  and  "  The  Popular  History  of 
the  United  States."  As  the  sale  of  these  works 
was  greatly  increased  by  the  popular  impression 
that  they  were  his  own  productions,  he  has  been 
severely  criticised  for  allowing  his  good  name  to  be 
sold  either  for  his  own  or  for  other's  men's  profit. 
If  the  public  announcement  of  any  of  these  works 
savored  of  deception,  he,  at  least,  honestly  per 
formed  that  kind  of  labor  which  the  titlepages 
promised,  thus  exempting  himself  from  public  cen 
sure.  There  was,  too,  a  fitness  in  his  attempting 
the  supervision  of  works  on  subjects  with  which 
he  was  so  familiar. 

To  the  end  of  his  life  he  was  appealed  to  as  a 
critic  by  persons  who  had  no  acquaintance  with 
him,  or  any  right  to  expect  his  attention,  pressed 
as  he  was  with  his  own  cares.  An  editorial  asso 
ciate  gives  the  following  account  of  this  kind  of 


148        LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

annoyance,  and  of  the  way  in  which  the  poet  was 
affected  by  it :  — 

"  There  is  a  large  class  of  hopeless  versifiers  who  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  sending  their  poetic  wares  to  Mr.  Bry 
ant,  and  asking  his  judgment  upon  them;  and  between  his 
tender  conscience,  which  would  not  permit  him  to  trifle 
with  the  truth,  and  his  keen  reluctance  to  give  pain,  he  was 
sometimes  sorely  perplexed.  These  things  imposed  upon 
him,  too,  an  amount  of  labor  for  others  which  was  an  unfair 
burden ;  and  on  one  occasion  he  came  into  my  room  with  a 
parcel  of  letters  and  papers  in  his  hand,  and  in  a  tone  of 
dejection  asked  me,  'Do  people  send  you  their  manu 
scripts  to  read  in  this  way? '  I  replied  that  a  good  many  of 
them  did,  and  showed  him  the  manuscript  of  a  novel  or 
an  epic  poem  which  a  Pennsylvanian  youth  had  modestly 
requested  me  to  revise  for  the  press. 

"'What  do  you  write  to  them?'  he  asked.  Then  he 
sat  down,  and  told  me  how  sorely  he  suffered  from  the  per 
plexity  already  mentioned;  and  I  ventured  to  suggest  that  a 
letter  of  even  seeming  commendation  from  him  to  an  ambi 
tious  incapable  might  spoil  a  good  blacksmith,  and  make  a 
ridicuously  poor  poet;  that  perhaps  a  good  many  of  his  cor 
respondents  sought  his  approval  in  this  way  as  a  bolster  to 
their  vanity ;  and  that  the  greatest  kindness,  in  very  many 
cases,  that  he  could  do  to  his  correspondents,  would  be 
frankly  to  tell  them  that  they  could  not  write  poetry.  He 
admitted  the  correctness  of  this  view  with  something  like  a 
shudder;  and  the  matter  ended  by  his  acceptance  of  my  sug 
gestion,  that  he  should  refer  the  letters  and  poems  of  his 
unknown  correspondents  to  the  staff  for  examination,  and 
that  we  should  report  directly  to  the  writers. 

"  They  continued  to  task  him  in  this  way,  however,  to 
the  end.  On  the  morning  of  that  sad  day  on  which  he  met 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       149 

with  his  mishap,  he  came  into  my  room  with  a  pair  of 
poems  sent  to  him  by  a  person  whom  he  knew,  and  asked 
me  to  read  them.  I  did  so,  and  found  them  to  be  extremely 
poor  stuff. 

"  *  I  supposed  so,'  he  said ;  «  and  now  I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  write  to  her  on  the  subject.  People  expect  too  much 
of  me,  —  altogether  too  much.' "  1 

Some  of  his  principles  of  style  are  set  forth  in 
the  following  extract  from  a  letter  once  sent  to  a 
young  applicant  for  his  opinions  and  advice  :  — 

"  My  young  friend,  I  observe  that  you  have  used  several 
French  expressions  in  your  letter.  I  think,  if  you  will  study 
the  English  language,  that  you  will  find  it  capable  of 
expressing  all  the  ideas  that  you  may  have.  I  have  always 
found  it  so ;  and  in  all  that  I  have  written  I  do  not  recall 
an  instance  where  I  was  tempted  to  use  a  foreign  word,  but 
that,  on  searching,  I  have  found  a  better  one  in  my  own 
language. 

"  Be  simple,  unaffected ;  be  honest  in  your  speaking  and 
writing.  Never  use  a  long  word  when  a  short  one  will  do 
as  well. 

"  Call  a  spade  by  its  name,  not  a  well-known  oblong 
instrument  of  manual  labor ;  let  a  home  be  a  home,  and  not 
a  residence ;  a  place,  not  a  locality ;  and  so  on  of  the  rest. 
When  a  short  word  will  do,  you  will  always  lose  by  a  long 
one;  you  lose  in  clearness;  you  lose  in  honest  expression 
of  meaning;  and,  in  the  estimation  of  all  men  who  are 
capable  of  judging,  you  lose  in  reputation  for  ability. 

"  The  only  true  way  to  shine,  even  in  this  false  world,  is 
to  be  modest  and  unassuming.  Falsehood  may  be  a  thick 
crust ;  but,  in  the  course  of  time,  truth  will  find  a  place  to 

1  Memorial  Pamphlet,  pp.  G8,  G9. 


150         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

break  through.  Elegance  of  language  may  not  be  in  the 
power  of  us  all ;  but  simplicity  and  straightforwardness 
are."1 

In  December,  1869,  he  finished  the  translation  of 
"  The  Iliad,"  after  five  years'  labor ;  and  the  follow 
ing  year  it  was  published  in  Boston  by  J.  R.  Os- 
good  &  Co.  It  met  with  a  hearty  welcome,  not 
only  from  the  lovers  of  the  Greek  epics,  but  from 
English  readers,  who  felt  for  the  first  time  that 
Homer's  spirit  could  be  caught  in  their  mother- 
tongue. 

In  one  of  the  most  scholarly  reviews  ever  writ 
ten  in  this  country,  Mr.  Charlton  T.  Lewis  passes 
the  following  judgment  upon  the  work:  "There 
is  no  other  English  '  Iliad '  which  could  be  made  by 
corrections  to  represent  Homer,  on  the  whole,  as 
well  as  Mr.  Bryant's  represents  him  now;  and 
until  that  distant  day,  when  a  poet  no  less  emi 
nent  than  he  shall,  with  fuller  knowledge  and 
before  a  world  of  richer  intelligence,  be  content  to 
give  his  maturest  years  of  labor  to  the  singing  of 
these  old  songs  again,  Mr.  Bryant's  translation  will 
assuredly  be  recognized  wherever  our  mother- 
tongue  is  read,  as  its  best  echo  of  the  old  Greek 
epic."2 

The  success  of  "  The  Iliad  "  encouraged  him  to 
attempt  the  translation  of  its  companion,  "  The 

1  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  23. 

2  North-American  Review,  April,  1871,  p.  368. 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       151 

Odyssey;"  and  this  was  ready  for  publication  in 
December,  1871,  having  occupied  only  two  years. 
Pope  took  twelve  years  to  produce  his  "  pretty 
poem,"  as  Bentley  called  it,  which,  after  all,  was 
not  Homer,  and  "let  out"  a  quarter  of  the  work 
to  the  journeymen  translators  Fenton-and  Broome. 
Bryant  did  the  work  far  better  all  alone,  at  the 
age  of  seventy,  and  in  about  half  the  time. 

His  vigor  of  mind  had  been  preserved  by  a 
strict  observance  of  the  laws  of  health  as  regards 
diet,  sleep,  and  exercise,  —  the  tripod  of  physical 
well-being.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend  he  has  given 
us  a  detailed  account  of  his  mode  of  life  at  this 
period  •  — 

MY  DEAR  SIR, —  I  promised  some  time  since  to  give 
you  some  account  of  my  habits  of  life,  so  far  at  least  as 
regards  diet,  exercise,  and  occupations.  I  am  not  sure  that 
it  will  be  of  any  use  to  you,  although  the  system  which  I 
have  for  many  years  observed  seems  to  answer  my  purpose 
very  well.  I  have  reached  a  pretty  advanced  period  of  life 
without  the  usual  infirmities  of  old  age,  and  with  my 
strength,  activity,  and  bodily  faculties  generally  in  pretty 
good  preservation.  How  far  this  may  be  the  effect  of  my 
way  of  life,  adopted  long  ago,  and  steadily  adhered  to,  is 
perhaps  uncertain. 

I  rise  early,  —  at  this  time  of  the  year,  about  half-past  five ; 
in  summer,  half  an  hour,  or  even  an  hour,  earlier.  Im 
mediately,  with  very  little  encumbrance  of  clothing,  I  begin 
a  series  of  exercises,  for  the  most  part  designed  to  expand 
the  chest,  and,  at  the  •  same  time,  call  into  action  all  the 
muscles  and  articulations  of  the  body.  These  are  per- 


152        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

formed  with  dumb-bells,  the  very  lightest,  covered  with 
flannel,  with  a  pole,  a  horizontal  bar,  and  a  light  chair 
swung  around  my  head.  After  a  full  hour,  and  sometimes 
more,  passed  in  this  manner,  I  bathe  from  head  to  foot. 
When  at  my  place  in  the  country  I  sometimes  shorten  my 
exercises  in  the  chamber,  and,  going  out,  occupy  myself  for 
half  an  hour  or  more  in  some  work  which  requires  brisk 
exercise.  After  my  bath,  if  breakfast  be  not  ready,  I  sit 
down  to  my  studies  till  I  am  called. 

My  breakfast  is  a  simple  one,  —  hominy  and  milk,  or,  in 
place  of  hominy,  brown  bread  or  oatmeal  or  wheaten  grits, 
and,  in  the  season,  baked  sweet  apples.  Buckwheat  cakes  I 
do  not  decline,  nor  any  other  article  of  vegetable  food ;  but 
animal  food  I  never  take  at  breakfast.  Tea  and  coffee  I 
never  touch  at  any  time.  Sometimes  I  take  a  cup  of  choco 
late,  which  has  no  narcotic  effect,  and  agrees  with  me  very 
well.  At  breakfast  I  often  take  fruit,  either  in  its  natural 
state  or  freshly  stewed. 

After  breakfast  I  occupy  myself  for  a  while  with  my 
studies  ;  and  then,  when  in  town,  I  walk  down  to  the  office 
of  "  The  Evening  Post,"  nearly  three  miles  distant,  and 
after  about  three  hours  return,  always  walking,  whatever 
be  the  weather  or  the  state  of  the  streets.  In  the  country  I 
am  engaged  in  my  literary  tasks  till  a  feeling  of  weariness 
drives  me  out  into  the  open  air;  and  I  go  upon  my  farm,  or 
into  the  garden  and  prune  the  fruit-trees,  or  perform  some 
other  work  about  them  which  they  need,  and  then  go  back 
to  my  books.  I  do  not  often  drive  out,  preferring  to  walk. 

In  the  country  I  dine  early ;  and  it  is  only  at  that  meal 
that  I  take  either  meat  or  fish,  and  of  these  but  a  moderate 
quantity,  making  my  dinner  mostly  of  vegetables.  At  the 
meal  which  is  called  tea  I  take  only  a  little  bread  and 
butter,  with  fruit  if  it  be  on  the  table.  In  town,  where  I 
dine  later,  I  make  but  two  meals  a  day.  Fruit  makes  a 


A  PATUIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       153 

considerable  part  of  my  diet,  and  1  eat  it  at  almost  any  hour 
of  the  day  without  inconvenience.  My  drink  is  water ;  yet 
I  sometimes,  though  rarely,  take  a  glass  of  wine.  I  am  a 
natural  temperance  man,  finding  myself  rather  confused 
than  exhilarated  by  wine.  I  never  meddle  with  tobacco, 
except  to  quarrel  with  its  use. 

That  I  may  rise  early,  I,  of  course,  go  to  bed  early,  —  in 
town,  as  early  as  ten;  in  the  country,  somewhat  earlier. 

For  many  years  I  have  avoided  in  the  evening  every  kind 
of  literary  occupation  which  tasks  the  faculties,  such  as 
composition,  —  even  to  the  writing  of  letters,  —  for  the 
reason  that  it  excites  the  nervous  system,  and  prevents 
sound  sleep.  My  brother  told  me,  not  long  since,  that  he 
had  seen  in  a  Chicago  newspaper,  and  several  other  Western 
journals,  a  paragraph  in  which  it  was  said  that  I  am  in  the 
habit  of  taking  quinine  as  a  stimulant;  that  I  have  de 
pended  upon  the  excitement  it  produces  in  writing  my  verses; 
and  that,  in  consequence  of  using  it  in  that  way,  I  had  become 
as  deaf  as  a  post.  As  to  my  deafness,  you  know  that  to  be 
false ;  and  the  rest  of  the  story  is  equally  so.  I  abominate 
all  drugs  and  narcotics,  and  have  always  carefully  avoided 
every  thing  which  spurs  nature  to  exertions  which  it  would 
not  otherwise  make.  Even  with  my  food  I  do  not  take  the 
usual  condiments,  such  as  pepper  and  the  like. 
I  am,  sir,  truly  yours, 

W.  C.  BRYANT. 


After  the  completion  of  "  The  Odyssey,"  Bryant 
travelled  in  the  South,  and  spent  the  winter  of 
1871—72  in  Mexico,  where  he  wrote  a.  series  of 
letters  to  "  The  Post."  On  his  return,  much  of  his 
time  was  given  to  the  revision  of  the  manuscript 
for  "  The  Popular  History  of  the  United  States." 


154        LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

His  interest  in  public  affairs  was  not  altogether 
professional,  but  patriotic.  His  scorn  of  fraud, 
and  hatred  of  corruption,  were  never  concealed  or 
appeased.  His  brief  but  stirring  address  on  Re 
form,  at  the  Cooper  Institute,  in  the  autumn  of 
1872,  will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  heard  it. 
It  seemed  like  the  utterance  of  a  Hebrew  prophet, 
as  the  gray-headed  speaker  declared,  in  clear,  firm 
tones,  "  The  robbers  are  the  few :  the  robbed 
are  the  many.  If  the  many  would  only  come  to 
a  mutual  understanding,  and  act  together,  the 
robbers  would  never  obtain  public  office,  or,  if  by 
accident  they  obtained  it,  would  be  thrust  out  the 
first  opportunity.  In  these  matters,  concert  of 
action  is  every  thing;  and  the  rogues  know  it. 
As  long  as  the  opposition  to  their  designs  is 
divided  into  many  little  minorities,  they  laugh  at 
it.  High-handed  villany  takes  its  adversaries,  one 
after  another,  by  the  throat,  and  strangles  them 
by  detail." 

In  1874  the  poet  was  made  the  recipient  of  the 
crowning  honor  of  his  life.  At  a  meeting  of  his 
friends  and  admirers  to  fix  upon  a  suitable  plan 
for  the  commemoration  of  his  eightieth  birthday, 
it  was  suggested  "  that  a  silver  vase  of  original 
design  and  choice  workmanship,  symbolizing  in 
its  sculpture  the  character  of  Mr.  Bryant's  life,  and 
writings,  should  be  procured  by  a  popular  sub 
scription,  to  be  ultimately  placed  in  the  Metropoli- 


A  PATlcIARCH  IN  LETTERS.  155 

tan  Museum  of  Art."  A  committee,  consisting  of 
many  of  the  most  celebrated  literary,  professional, 
and  business  men  of  New  York  and  other  cities, 
was  appointed  to  execute  the  proposition.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  3d  of  November,  many 
friends  appeared  at  the  poet's  residence  in  Six 
teenth  Street,  when  the  following  address,  pre 
pared  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Osgood,  and  signed 
by  many  distinguished  names,  was  presented,  af 
ter  some  introductory  remarks  by  Mr.  Jonathan 
Sturges :  — 

Nov.  3, 1874. 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Honored  and  Dear  Sir,  —  We,  your  friends  and  fellow- 
citizens,  congratulate  you  upon  completing  your  eightieth 
year  in  such  vigor  of  body  and  mind.  We  give  you  our 
heartiest  wishes  for  your  continued  health  and  happiness ; 
and  we  inform  you  respectfully  of  the  intention  to  embody 
in  a  commemorative  vase,  of  original  design  and  choice 
workmanship,  the  lessons  of  your  literary  and  civic  career 
in  its  relations  with  our  country,  whose  nature,  history, 
liberty,  law,  and  conscience  you  have  so  illustrated.  We 
believe  that  such  a  work  will  be  an  expressive  fact  of  our 
coming  National  Centennial,  and  a  permanent  treasure  of 
our  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  We  only  add,  that  we 
desire  that  this  tribute  of  gratitude  should  come  from  your 
friends  throughout  the  country,  without  distinction  of  par 
ty  or  section ;  and  that  our  American  women  shall  be  en 
couraged  to  unite  in  the  act,  since  our  mothers,  wives,  and 
daughters  are  ready  to  declare  theiryobligation  to  you  for 
the  pure  language  and  sentiment  which  you  have  given  to 
the  homes  and  schools  of  the  nation. 


156         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

The  universal  character  of  this  testimonial  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  it  was  signed  by  men  of 
every  shade  of  religious  and  political  opinion,  in 
cluding  authors,  statesmen,  generals,  tradesmen, 
artists,  clergymen,  editors,  and  lawyers,  represent 
ing  every  part  of  the  United  States. 

The  design  of  the  vase  adopted  by  the  com 
mittee  was  made  by  Mr.  James  H.  Whitehouse, 
of  the  firm  of  Tiffany  &  Co.  "  When  the  Bryant 
testimonial  was  first  mentioned  to  me,"  says  that 
gentleman,  "my  thoughts  at  once  flew  to  the 
country,  —  to  the  crossing  of  the  boughs  of  trees, 
to  the  plants  and  flowers,  and  to  a  general  con 
templation  of  Nature  ;  and  these,  together  with  a 
certain  Homeric  influence,  produced  in  my  mind 
the  germ  of  the  design,  —  the  form  of  a  Greek  vase, 
with  the  most  beautiful  American  flowers  growing 
round  and  intwining  themselves  gracefully  about 
it,  each  breathing  its  own  particular  story  as  it 
grew." 

Nearly  two  years  was  required  to  complete  the 
vase ;  and  it  was  not  ready  for  presentation  until 
June  20,  1876.  It  is  of  the  finest  repousse  work, 
representing  more  than  a  thousand  days  of  patient 
and  ingenious  labor,  and  costing  five  thousand 
dollars.  The  Greek  severity  and  the  Gothic  lines 
of  interlacing  branches  pointing  upward  signify 
"  the  union  of  the  Greek  culture  with  the  Hebrew 
faith,  —  the  culture  that  delights  in  nature  and 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       157 

humanity,  and  the  faith  that  never  forgets  the 
God  over  all,  never  loses  the  First  Great  Cause  in 
pantheist  visions  or  humanitarian  pride."  But 
the  symbolism  is  far  more  explicit  than  this.  The 
vase  is  completely  covered  with  significant  figures. 
On  one  side  there  is  a  medallion  with  the  poet's 
head,  and  on  the  reverse  another  medallion  with 
two  female  figures,  —  Poetry  contemplating  Nature. 
Some  of  the  representations  have  an  historic  mean 
ing.  In  one  the  poet  is  learning  the  art  of  verse 
from  his  father,  who  points  to  Homer  as  his  master. 
In  another  the  boy-poet  is  musing  in  a  grove,  as 
if  dwelling  upon  the  images  of  "  Thanatopsis." 
In  a  third  the  most  primitive  form  of  the  printing- 
press  represents  the  labors  of  the  journalist.  In 
a  fourth  he  is  the  translator  of  "  The  Iliad  "  and 
"  The  Odyssey."  In  another  medallion  is  an  open 
book,  nameless,  but  evidently  designed  to  turn 
our  thoughts  toward  the  Book  of  books,  from 
which  the  poet  drew  the  precepts  of  his  life. 
The  waterfowl  and  the  fringed  gentian  are  among 
the  ornaments ;  while  the  ivy  represents  age ;  the 
amaranth,  immortality;  the  eglantine,  the  spirit 
of  poetry;  the  water-lily,  eloquence;  the  bobo 
link,  humorous  verse ;  the  broken  shackles,  the 
poet's  work  in  the  abolition  of  slavery ;  the  Indian- 
corn  and  cotton,  his  interest  in  industrial  enter 
prises. 

The   presentation  was  made   with   appropriate 


158        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

ceremonies  in  Chickering  Hall,  in  the  presence  of 
a  large  audience  consisting  of  the  most  cultivated 
men  and  women  of  the  city.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel 
Osgood  concluded  the  speech  of  presentation  in 
the  following  language  :  — 

"Many  offerings,  great  and  small,  are  in  this  piece  of 
silver;  and  they  come  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  not 
without  complaint  that  more  was  not  called  for.  We  who 
live  in  and  around  New  York  have  not  been  behindhand  in 
this  tribute,  and  we  enter  into  this  presentation  with  peculiar 
earnestness.  You  are  our  neighbor  and  companion ;  and  for 
more  than  fifty  years  you  have  taken  interest  in  the  welfare 
of  this  city,  and  helped  us  in  every  way.  We  can  all  join 
in  this  deference,  whether  native  or  foreign-born,  Knicker 
bockers  or  New-Englanders,  Eastern,  Western,  Northern,  or 
Southern ;  for  we  all  know  you  and  respect  you.  You  have 
helped  turn  out  the  knaves,  and  put  honest  men  into  power. 
You  stood  by  the  old  flag  in  the  great  struggle  when  '  God 
and  our  Country  '  was  the  motto;  and  you  are  standing  by 
it  now,  when  '  honest  men  and  honest  money '  is  the  issue 
of  the  time.  You  have  not  lost  ground  by  living  with  us  ; 
and  you  have  risen  from  a  young  man  of  thirty  to  a  full- 
grown  man  —  I  will  not  say  an  old  man  —  of  over  eighty,  as 
hearty  and  active  as  ever.  You  have  seen  the  city  double 
its  numbers  and  wealth  many  times,  not  without  some  signs 
of  growth  in  wisdom  as  well  as  bulk.  We  have  been  in 
some  respects  a  little  more  fast  than  your  advice  and  ex 
ample  taught  us ;  but  in  being  generally  cheerful  we  have 
followed  your  lead,  and  kept  up  a  brave  heart  through  all 
changes  of  fortune.  We  are  glad  to  have  you  with  us  to 
cheer  us  on  to  the  great  future  as  we  turn  the  leaf  of  a  new 
century.  You  still  live  the  life  which  this  vase  embodies ; 
you  still  see  and  enjoy  the  charm  of  Nature  ;  the  gentian, 


A  PATEIAECH  IN  LETTERS.       159 

the  violet,  the  primrose,  and  the  apple-blossom  delight  you 
as  ever ;  you  hear  the  hymn  of  the  forest  and  the  song  of 
the  stars ;  the  merry  Robert  of  Lincoln  sings  for  you  his 
genial  glee,  and  the  solemn  water-fowl  preaches  with  un 
tiring  wing.  Your  Muse,  that  began  with  '  Thanatopsis,' 
promises  to  make  '  Athanasia '  her  swan-song  as  the  length 
ening  shadows  point  toward  morning.  Accept  this  gift, 
with  all  its  sculptures  and  memorials,  the  study  of  many 
thoughtful  hours,  and  the  trophy  of  more  than  a  thousand 
days'  work,  all  throbbing  with  heart-beats,  as  at  once  our 
record  and  our  blessing.  This  exquisite  form  brings  beauty 
from  the  land  of  old  Homer  to  join  with  truth  and  grace 
from  our  new  America  in  celebrating  your  birthday.  It 
means  more  than  we  can  say.  But  we  can  say,  for  our 
country  and  for  ourselves,  that  it  means,  'God  bless  you, 
Mr.  Bryant ! ' 

The  modest  response  displays  so  much  of  charac 
ter,  that  it  deserves  a  place  here,  and  in  the  memory 
of  every  student  of  the  venerable  poet's  life  and 
mind :  — 

"  I  shall  begin  what  I  have  to  say  with  thanks,  and  with 
thanks  I  shall  end  it,  — thanks  to  my  excellent  friends  who 
have  concurred  in  the  presentation  of  this  beautiful  vase, 
thanks  to  the  artists  by  whom  it  is  designed  and  executed, 
thanks  to  my  friend  the  chairman  of  the  committee  for  the 
obliging  expressions  with  which  he  has  accompanied  the 
presentation,  and  thanks  to  this  fair  audience  for  the  en 
couragement  of  their  presence.  After  expressing  my  ac 
knowledgments  for  the  honor  done  me,  it  would  be  easiest 
for  me  to  take  refuge  in  silence ;  but  this  would  hardly 
become  me  after  the  kind  words  addressed  to  me,  and  the 
superb  gift  offered  to  my  acceptance.  I  fear  that  I  might 


160        LIFE  OF  WILLIAM   CULLEK  BRYANT. 

be  accused  of  imitating  an  example  of  which  I  remember 
to  have  read  some  forty  years  since.  A  volunteer  military 
company  in  a  provincial  town  of  England  on  a  time  presented 
their  captain  with  a  silver  pitcher.  The  non-commissioned 
officer  who  presented  it,  approaching  his  commander,  held  it 
out  to  him,  and  said,  '  Captain,  here's  the  jug.'  To  this  the 
captain  replied,  '  Ay,  is  that  the  jug  ?  '  And  there  the 
speech-making  ended,  and  the  company  were  ready  for  the 
festivities  of  the  evening.  I  am  afraid  that  a  similar  con 
densation  of  what  I  have  to  say  might  be  as  ridiculous. 

"Mr.  Chairman  of  the  Committee,  and  you  my  good 
friends  who  have  done  me  the  honor  to  be  here,  I  would 
not  have  you  understand  that  I  have  the  great  presumption 
to  take  the  obliging  things  said  of  me  as  my  due,  or  this 
superb  gift  before  me  as  earned  by  any  service  which  I 
have  rendered  in  any  quarter.  I  wish  I  deserved  it  all ;  but, 
knowing  better  in  my  heart,  I  put  a  large  balance  —  a  very- 
large  one  —  to  the  credit  of  your  generosity.  What  merit 
would  be  yours  if  I  had  fairly  earned  all  that  you  are 
bestowing  upon  me  ?  You  would  be  simply  doing  your 
duty;  you  would  be  paying  a  debt.  I  should  have  no 
thanks  to  give,  and  you  no  honor  for  your  benefaction. 
But  consider  it  in  the  other  light :  suppose  that  I  receive 
these  testimonials  of  your  kindness  without  having  earned 
them ;  and  this  proceeding  becomes  an  act  of  munificence, 
noble,  princely,  imperial,  —  a  munificence  deserving  to  be 
extolled  in  the  choicest  phrases  which  language  can  supply, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  like  the  bounty  which  showers  the  genial 
rain  and  pours  the  sweet  sunshine  on  the  unjust  as  well  as 
the  just,  and  under  the  influence  of  benignant  seasons  ripens 
the  harvests  of  the  field  for  Tweed  as  well  as  for  Dr. 
Muhlenberg. 

**  And  now  a  word  concerning  the  superb  vase  which 
is  before  me,  —  the  work  of  artists  who  are  the  worthy 


•  A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.       161 

successors  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  and  eminent  in  their  de 
partment.  It  has  been  greatly  admired  by  those  who  have 
seen  it,  and  deserves  their  admiration.  .  I  remember  to  have 
read,  I  think,  some  half-century  ago,  a  definition  of  the 
term  '  genius,'  making  it  to  consist  in  the  faculty  of  accom 
plishing  great  results  by  small  means  ;  the  power,  in  short, 
which  an  individual  has  of  overcoming  difficulties  by  a  fore 
cast  and  vigor  not  possessed  by  others,  converting  obstacles 
into  instruments  of  success.  This  vase  I  may  call  a  product 
of  genius,  both  in  the  design  and  the  execution ;  for  who 
would  suppose  that  any  skill  of  the  artist  could  connect 
with  such  a  subject  as  he  had  before  him  images  so  happily 
conceived,  so  full  of  expression,  and  so  well  combining 
expression  with  grace  ?  My  friends,  we  authors  cultivate  a 
short-lived  reputation ;  one  generation  of  us  pushes  another 
from  the  stage;  the  very  language  in  which  we  write 
becomes  a  jargon,  and  we  cease  to  be  read :  but  a  work  like 
this  is  always  beautiful,  always  admired.  Age  has  no 
power  over  its  charm.  Hereafter  some  one  may  say,  *  This 
beautiful  vase  was  made  in  honor  of  a  certain  American 
poet,  whose  name  it  bears,  but  whose  writings  are  forgotten. 
It  is  remarkable  that  so  much  pains  should  have  been  taken 
to  illustrate  the  life  and  writings  of  one  whose  works  are  so 
completely  unknown  at  the  present  day.'  Thus,  gentlemen 
artists,  I  shall  be  indebted  to  you  for  causing  the  memory  of 
my  name  to  outlast  that  of  my  writings." 

The  vase  was  exposed  to  the  view  of  the  public 
at  the  Centennial  Exhibition,  where  it  was  seen 
with  approving  eyes  by  thousands  of  the  poet's 
countrymen,  —  a  conspicuous  object  of  attraction 
amid  the  products  of  genius  by  which  it  was  sur 
rounded. 


162         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CtJLLEN  BRYANT. 

To  the  end  of  life  Bryant  was  not  only  a  pro 
ducer,  but  a  reader,  of  literature.  He  had  so  long 
breathed  the  atmosphere  of  the  noblest  poetry, 
that  his  opinions  of  contemporary  productions  had 
the  force  of  an  oracle  with  those  who  were  so  for 
tunate  as  to  hear  them.  His  measure  of  literary 
value  was  not  the  amount  of  expressive  power 
displayed  by  a  writer  regardless  of  substantive  or 
ethical  considerations.  Nothing  was  beautiful  to 
him  which  was  not  both  true  and  good.  While 
he  thought  that  Rossetti  wrote  very  finely,  he 
condemned  his  poems  as  falling  below  the  proper 
standard  of  morality.  His  sensuous  tone,  he 
complained,  often  fell  to  the. level  of  sensuality. 
Some  of  his  verses  he  regarded  as  unintelligible, 
and  he  held  that  even  a  poet  was  bound  to  write 
so  as  to  be  understood.  He  found  fault  with 
Robert  Browning  because  of  his  obscurity ;  but  to 
him  this  was  not  so  bad  as  indecency.  Swinburne 
he  detested,  though  he  admitted  that  he  had  been 
prevented  from  being  familiar  with  his  poems  on 
account  of  their  disregard  of  ethical  laws.  He  was 
a  warm  admirer  of  William  Morris,  like  himself  a 
lover  of  Nature,  and  praised  both  his  art  and  his 
morals.  He  had  a  high  opinion  of  Mrs.  Browning's 
powers,  but  regretted  that  she  had  closed  her 
career  with  political  poems,  careless  and  hasty 
in  execution,  and  altogether  unworthy  of  her 
genius.  There  are  two  works  which  the  world 


A  PATRIARCH  IX  LETTERS.  163 

would  have  been  happy  to  receive  from  Bryant's 
hands,  —  an  account  of  his  personal  interviews 
with  distinguished  contemporaries,  and  his  opin 
ions  of  literary  works.  In  his  published  writings 
he  has  singularly  avoided  giving  expressions  to 
personal  matters,  though  he  sometimes  spoke  of 
them  in  private.  "His  conversation,"  says  an  edi 
torial  associate,  referring  to  one  of  his  latest  inter 
views  with  him,  "  was  a  critical  history  of  American 
literature  in  miniature ;  and  some  of  the  opinions 
expressed  would  shock  that  class  of  critics  whose 
admiration  of  any  thing  American  is  tempered  by 
a  truly  Nazarene  conviction  of  the  unworthiness 
of  Nazareth." 

His  mind  was  well  stored  with  detailed  knowl 
edge  of  every  kind,  and  was  a  perfect  treasury 
of  choice  selections  from  a  wide  range  of  poetrv. 
His  verbal  memory  was  excellent;  and  he  could 
recite  long  passages  from  all  his  favorite  poets, 
not  only  in  English,  but  also  in  foreign  languages. 
Mr.  John  C.  Zachos,  the  curator  of  the  Cooper 
Institute,  relates  a  story  illustrative  of  his  knowl 
edge  of  poetry,  and  his  enthusiasm  in  reciting  it 
when  fired  with  its  spirit. 

Not  long  before  his  death,  Bryant  was  present 
at  a  social  gathering  of  literary  men  at  the  house 
of  Peter  Cooper,  when  the  conversation  fell  upon 
the  capacity  of  various  languages  to  express  the 
sense  by  the  sound.  Mr.  Zachos  advocated  the 


164        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

sonorous  qualities  of  the  modern  Greek,  while 
Bryant  thought  that  the  Italian  possessed  more 
illustrative  power  than  any  other  language.  In 
order  to  test  the  comparative  merits  of  the  two 
languages,  he  proposed,  that,  if  Mr.  Zachos  would 
recite  something  in  modern  Greek,  he  would  re 
peat  a  selection  in  Italian.  The  proposition  was 
at  once  carried  out;  and  Bryant  chose  a  passage 
from  Dante,  and  recited  it  "with  a  power  and 
enthusiasm  and  fire  which  surprised  his  audience." 
"It  was  a  fine  sight,  and  one  to  be  remembered," 
said  Mr.  Zachos :  "  the  white-haired  old  man,  wrapt 
up  in  the  beauty  of  what  he  was  reciting,  and  al 
most  oblivious  of  his  surroundings,  made  the  scene 
an  impressive  one.  Aside  from  the  beauty  of  the 
sight,  it  was  a  marvellous  instance  of  the  influence 
which  the  genius  of  song  of  any  nationality  had 
over  the  aged  poet,  enabling  him  to  overcome  for 
the  time  his  habitual  serenity."  l 

When,  on  the  29th  of  May,  1878,  the  bust  of 
Mazzini,  the  Italian  statesman,  was  to  be  unveiled 
in  the  Central  Park,  it  was  fitting  that  Bryant, 
who,  seven  years  before,  had  spoken  in  celebration 
of  the  accomplishment  of  Italian  unity,  should  be 
invited  to  deliver  one  of  the  addresses  on  this 
occasion.  He  was  conveyed  to  the  park  in  his 
carriage  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  delivered  his 
speech  beneath  the  warm  rays  of  a  bright  May 

i  The  Evening  Post,  June  19, 1878. 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.        165 

sun.  Toward  the  close  of  his  address  he  advanced 
uncovered  from  the  shelter  of  an  umbrella  which 
a  friend  had  insisted  upon  holding  over  him,  and 
pronounced  the  peroration  with  the  bright  sun 
shine  falling  directly  upon  his  unprotected  head. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  discourse  he  showed 
much  exhaustion,  but  did  not  complain  of  fatigue. 
Accepting  the  invitation  of  General  James  G.  Wil 
son  to  rest  for  a  little  while  at  the  latter's  house 
in  Seventy-fourth  Street,  and  take  some  refresh 
ment  there  before  proceeding  down  town  to  his 
own  home,  he  walked  with  General  Wilson  and  the 
general's  little  daughter  to  his  house,  engaging  in 
pleasant  conversation  with  the  little  girl  on  the 
way.  When  they  reached  the  entrance  of  the 
house,  General  Wilson  advanced  to  open  the  inner 
door,  leaving  his  guest  for  a  moment  on  the  steps. 
An  instant  later  he  turned,  to  see  the  aged  poet 
lying  partly  in  the  vestibule,  with  his  head  upon 
the  platform-step.  Assistance  was  offered  by  a 
passing  stranger;  and  the  insensible  form  was 
carried  into  the  parlor,  and  placed  upon  a  sofa. 
When  Mrs.  Wilson  bathed  his  head  with  ice-water, 
he  murmured,  "  Don't ! "  but  remained  uncon 
scious  for  some  time.  A  glass  of  iced  sherry  re 
vived  him;  and  he  touched  his  head,  moaning, 
"My  head!  my  head!  I  don't  feel  well."  He  de 
clined  being  put  to  bed,  and  at  his  request  he  was 
taken  home.  During  the  ride  to  his  house  in  Six- 


166         LIFE   OF  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

teenth  Street  he  conversed,  but  in  a  wandering 
manner.  When  they  arrived  at  his  home  he  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  the  street  and  the  house  ;  but, 
upon  a  little  delay  in  the  response  to  General  Wil 
son's  ring,  he  mechanically  took  out  his  latch-key, 
and  opened  the  door.  When  they  were  in  the 
house  he  looked  dreamily  at  General  Wilson,  and 
asked  if  he  wished  to  see  Miss  Fairchild.  The 
general  replied  that  he  did ;  and  Bryant  directed 
a  servant,  who  had  appeared,  to  call  his  niece.  A 
word  explained  the  situation.  The  poet  was  put 
to  bed,  and  his  physician  called.  In  a  few  hours 
he  became  unconscious.  Hardly  a  word  passed 
his  lips,  except  a  few  simple  directions,  during  the 
remaining  thirteen  days  of  his  life,  though  he  oc 
casionally  rallied  sufficiently  to  speak.  In  a  short 
time  paralysis  of  the  right  side  supervened,  and 
his  life  gradually  ebbed  away.  At  about  half-past 
five  o'clock,  on  the  12th  of  June,  surrounded  by 
his  friends,  his  spirit  peacefully  left  the  sleeping 
body,  and  passed  out  into  the  unknown. 

The  press  of  the  entire  country  had  spoken  his 
praises,  and  the  pious  of  the  land  had  prayed  for 
his  recovery,  during  the  two  weeks  of  his  linger 
ing;  and,  when  at  last  the  end  was  announced, 
it  seemed  like  a  national  bereavement.  Every 
respectable  journal  in  the  land  reviewed  the  career 
of  the  departed  poet ;  and  in  all  the  notices,  writ 
ten  by  men  of  every  shade  of  religious  and  political 


A  PATRIARCH  IN  LETTERS.        167 

opinion,  there  was  no  word  of  censure  or  dispar 
agement. 

On  the  14th  of  June  his  remains  were  removed 
to  All  Souls'  Church,  where,  in  life  he  had  wor 
shipped  ;  and  his  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bellows, 
pronounced  a  funeral  oration  in  the  presence  of  a 
densely  crowded  audience,  in  which  were  gathered 
the  leading  men  and  women  of  New  York. 

The  services  closed  with  one  of  the  poet's  own 
beautiful  hymns,  and  the  recitation  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  by  the  entire  congregation.  A  special 
train  conveyed  the  body  and  a  few  friends  to  Ros- 
lyn,  whence  he  was  carried  in  a  hearse  to  the 
cemetery,  where  a  granite  monument  marked  the 
resting-place  of  his  wife.  There,  in  the  spot  which 
he  had  often  visited  with  flowers  and  tears  for  her 
he  loved,  amid  the  singing  of  birds  and  the  sway 
ing  of  green  branches,  while  the  golden  sunlight 
of  the  radiant  June  poured  its  brightness  over 
all,  his  pastor  solemnly  repeated  some  of  the 
poet's  own  verses ;  the  children  of  the  neighbor 
hood  filled  his  grave  with  fragrant  blossoms ;  and 
then  they  left  him  alone  on  the  hillside  in  the 
silent  companionship  of  Nature  and  his  dead. 

Thus  was  the  wish  uttered  half  a  century  be 
fore  granted  by  Nature  to  her  poet :  — 

"  I  gazed  upon  the  glorious  sky 

And  the  green  mountains  round, 
And  thought,  that,  when  I  came  to  lie 
At  rest  within  the  ground, 


168        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

'Twere  pleasant,  that  in  flowery  June, 
When  brooks  send  up  a  cheerful  tune, 

And  groves  a  joyous  sound, 
The  sexton's  hand,  my  grave  to  make, 
The  rich,  green  mountain-turf  should  break. 


THE  JOUENALIST.  169 


CHAPTER    XL 

THE   JOURNALIST. 

professions  demand  a  higher  order  of 
intellect  or  a  wider  diversity  of  talents  than 
journalism.  The  editor  is  a  dealer  in  the  most 
perishable  of  all  commodities,  —  items  of  intelli 
gence  which  to-morrow  become  a  common  posses 
sion,  or  are  deprived  of  all  value  by  a  contradic 
tion.  Whoever  would  earn  his  bread  by  the  sale 
of  news,  therefore,  must  exercise  the  keenest  vigi 
lance,  or  his  wares,  though  bought  at  a  high  price, 
become  worthless  in  his  hands.  Yet,  while  alac 
rity  is  the  most  obviously  essential  of  journalistic 
qualifications,  it  is  by  no  means  the  rarest.  Few 
readers,  even  among  the  more  thoughtful,  ever 
think  of  the  encyclopedic  scholarship,  the  ripeness 
of  judgment,  the  acquaintance  with  the  world, 
the  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  the  literary 
attainments,  represented  in  a  single  number  of  a 
daily  newspaper.  Not  only  must  the  substance  of 
the  journal  be  solid  and  fresh,  but  it  must  at  once 


170         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

suit  the  taste  of  the  cultivated,  meet  the  demands 
of  the  learned,  avoid  the  cavils  of  the  critical,  and 
please  the  seeker  after  novelty.  When  it  is  re 
membered  that  a  single  copy  of  a  newspaper  like 
"  The  Evening  Post  "  contains  as  much  matter  as 
a  good-sized  volume,  the  marvellous  productive 
ness  of  the  great  novelists  ceases  to  be  a  wonder 
in  comparison  with  the  fertility  of  our  writers  for 
the  daily  press.  In  an  editor's  work,  moreover, 
there  is  little  that  is  purely  arbitrary.  His  ar 
guments  must  be  sound  in  themselves,  and  clearly 
stated;  his  opinions  must  be  framed  for  a  con 
stituency,  and  yet  possess  an  air  of  independence  ; 
his  comments  must  be  both  timely,  and  above  the 
average  of  popular  reflection.  In  addition  to  the 
constant  tax  upon  the  resources  of  invention  and 
style,  there  is  the  regulative  element  in  the  man 
agement  of  a  journal,  —  the  shaping  of  a  policy 
under  conditions  which  are  constantly  shifting, 
*and  which  cannot  generally  be  foreseen.  Surely 
there  is  not  a  faculty  of  the  human  mind,  or  a 
complex  co-operation  of  faculties,  which  journal 
ism  does  not  daily  lay  under  tribute. 

It  is  sometimes  remarked  that  Bryant  wrote 
little ;  and,  if  we  have  in  mind  only  what  he  has 
published  in  books,  this  is  true.  If,  however,  we 
take  into  the  account  his  editorial  contributions 
during  the  fifty-two  years  of  his  connection  with 
"  The  Post,"  he  is  one  of  the  most  voluminous 


THE   JOURNALIST.  171 

writers  that  ever  lived.  At  a  moderate  average, 
his  editorials  alone  would  fill  more  than  a  hun 
dred  duodecimo  volumes  of  five  hundred  pages 
each,  —  a  mass  of  literature  that  no  American 
writer  has  exceeded.  And,  what  is  more  impor 
tant,  most  of  these  writings  are  fairly  worthy  of 
the  name  literature,  whether  we  consider  the  top 
ics,  ranging  through  the  whole  realm  of  public 
questions  for  half  a  century ;  the  originality  of 
treatment,  often  disclosing  the  widest  scholarship 
and  the  most  profound  reflection ;  or  the  style, 
always  pure,  clear,  and  forcible,  and  often  chastely 
elegant.  Behind  this  editor's  desk  there  sat  a 
master  of  many  languages,  a  traveller  in  foreign 
lands,  a  student  of  various  sciences,  a  poet  of  un 
questioned  genius,  a  moralist  of  high  principles,  a 
critic  of  keen  penetration.  The  man  in  whom  all 
these  were  united  made  it  a  special  object  of  en 
deavor  always  to  write  the  best  thoughts  in  the 
best  manner. 

There  are  three  classes  of  newspapers,  or  three 
schools  of  journalism,  if  one  prefers  so  to  mark  the 
distinction.  The  first  we  may  call  the  presentive. 
It  lays  before  the  public  a  chronicle  of  each  day's 
events,  a  transcript  of  the  world's  doings  for  twen 
ty-four  hours.  Religion,  philosophy,  science,  poli 
tics,  literature,  crime,  sport,  adventure,  accident, 
—  all  are  recognized  as  having  an  interest  for 
men,  and  all  are  represented.  All  parts  of  the 


172        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

world  are  brought  within  the  field  of  the  editorial 
telescope,  and  every  observation  is  faithfully  re 
corded.  The  city  sportsman  and  the  village  pastor 
buy  the  paper,  —  the  former  to  read  of  the  last  race, 
the  latter  to  read  of  the  proceedings  of  a  religious 
convention.  The  day  has  been  photographed  :  the 
editor  feels  that  his  responsibility  is  ended,  and 
leaves  his  readers  to  the  exercise  of  their  personal 
tastes,  regardless  of  results.  The  second  may  be 
termed  dogmatic.  It  views  the  world  through  a 
glass  of  a  definite  color.  Every  event  has  a  fore 
gone  significance.  Some  events  are,  of  course,  not 
to  be  noticed  at  all,  since  they  militate  against  the 
preconceived  views  and  avowed  principles  of  the 
journal.  Other  events  are  to  be  exaggerated, 
belittled,  or  otherwise  modified,  so  as  to  serve  the 
ends  of  the  party,  the  clique,  or  the  man,  that  is 
in  every  way  to  be  supported.  A  third  deserves 
to  be  named  the  critical.  It  exists  for  the  dis 
covery  and  promulgation  of  truth,  and  the  detec 
tion  and  suppression  of  error,  on  all  the  themes 
within  its  range.  It  has  no  alliances,  except  such 
as  grow  out  of  temporary  coincidence  of  view.  It 
has  no  pledged  friends ;  for  it  depends  upon  no  or 
ganization  for  its  support.  It  advocates  no  man 
as  infallible,  because  it  reserves  the  right  of  meas 
uring  all  men  by  their  acts  as  they  occur.  Such 
a  journal  Bryant  designed  making  "  The  Post " 
during  the  years  of  his  editorial  management. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  1J3 

Several  of  its  rivals  surpassed  it  in  freshness  and 
fulness  of  news,  in  range  of  discussion,  and  in  ex 
tent  of  circulation.  His  chief  aim  was  not  to 
make  it  pre-eminent  in  any  of  these  respects, 
though  these  were  not  disregarded.  His  idea  of 
a  newspaper  was  that  of.  a  moral  force,  shaping 
and  elevating  the  public  mind  which  it  enlight 
ened  and  informed.  In  Bryant's  view,  the  true 
mission  of  a  newspaper  is,  not  to  supply  informa 
tion  to-day  which  will  be  useless  to-morrow,  but 
rather  to  co-ordinate  great  events,  and  interpret 
their  meaning  for  the  benefit  of  society  and  the 
state. 

Every  journal,  except  a  mere  news-bulletin, 
must  have  certain  principles  which  form  its  stand 
ard  of  judgment  in  the  measurement  of  men  and 
events.  "The  Post"  was  founded  under  Feder 
alist  auspices ;  but,  when  Bryant  became  its  editor, 
it  had  gradually  changed  its  attitude.  The  only 
condition  of  his  acceptance  of  the  editorial  posi 
tion,  says  his  associate  Mr.  Bigelow,  was  "the 
privilege  of  advocating  a  removal  of  needless  re 
strictions  upon  commerce,  and  a  separation  of 
government  moneys  from  the  banking  capital  of 
the  country."  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  and 
most  vigorous  advocates  of  free  trade  in  this  coun 
try,  and,  till  the  day  of  his  death,  continued  to 
be  a  stout  champion  of  unfettered  commerce. 
When  he  began  to  advocate  this  doctrine,  his  was 


174        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  only  journal  north  of  the  Potomac  that  was 
not  favorable  to  protection.  He  lived  to  see  his 
sentiments  espoused  by  a  strong  party  in  a  section 
where  they  were  once  held  in  almost  universal 
contempt.  In  recognition  of  his  long  and  faithful 
services,  the  free-traders  of  New  York  gave  a  ban 
quet  in  his  honor  in  1868.  He  was  a  vigorous 
defender  of  President  Jackson's  policy  in  opposi 
tion  to  the  United-States  Bank,  and  a  leading 
advocate  of  the  Sub-Treasury  plan. 

During  his  editorial  career  twelve  presidential 
administrations  passed  under  his  review,  and  none 
escaped  his  criticism.  His  paper  was  nominally 
allied  to  the  Democratic  party,  though  always 
free  from  dependence  upon  its  leaders,  from  the 
beginning  of  his  management  until  1856,  when 
the  attitude  of  President  Pierce  and  his  party  on 
the  subject  of  slavery  alienated  him  from  that 
connection,  and  he  threw  his  influence  with  the 
Republicans  in  the  effort  to  elect  Fremont.  From 
that  time  his  sympathies  were  with  the  Republi 
cans,  as  the  leaders  in  a  national  policy  that  op 
posed  disunion  and  the  continuance  of  slavery. 
He  stood  with  Lincoln  during  his  entire  career, 
and  advocated  the  election  of  Grant  in  1868.  Al 
though  he  criticised  his  administration  severely, 
and  especially  his  policy  for  reconstructing  the 
Southern  States,  he  again  supported  Grant  in 
1872,  in  preference  to  Horace  Greeley,  the  leading 


THE  JOURNALIST.  175 

champion  of  a  theory  in  political  economy  which 
Bryant  had  combated  all  his  life. 

His  own  name  was  at  this  time  mentioned  for 
the  presidency  as  a  third  candidate.  His  feelings 
in  regard  to  this  proposition  are  expressed  in  the 
following  card  to  the  public :  — 

Certain  journals  of  this  city  have  lately  spoken  of  me  as 
one  ambitious  of  being  nominated  as  a  candidate  for  the 
presidency  of  the  United  States.  The  idea  is  absurd 
enough,  not  only  on  account  of  my  advanced  age,  but  of  my 
unfitness  in  various  respects  for  the  labor  of  so  eminent  a 
post.  I  do  not,  however,  object  to  the  discussion  of  my 
deficiencies  on  any  other  ground  than  that  it  is  altogether 
superfluous,  since  it  is  impossible  that  I  should  receive  any 
formal  nomination,  and  equally  impossible,  if  it  were  of 
fered,  that  I  should  commit  the  folly  of  accepting  it. 

WILLIAM  C.  BRYANT. 

NEW  YORK,  July  8, 1872. 

His  attitude  on  the  subject  of  slavery  was  for  a 
time  ambiguous.  During  the  discussion  of  this 
momentous  problem,  he  paid  several  visits  to .  the 
Southern  States;  but  there  is  in  his  letters  no 
protest  against  the  "  great  wrong  "  of  human  bond 
age.  He  describes  Southern  manners,  paints  pic 
tures  of  Southern  life,  and  refers  to  the  condition 
of  the  slaves,  without  a  criticism  upon  the  institu 
tion  against  which  the  agitators  of  Boston  were  de 
claiming  in  tones  of  thunder.  Pie  seemed  to  them 
cold  and  heartless,  as  did  also  the  majority  of  men 
at  that  time.  But,  as  we  view  him  now,  his  silence 


176         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

and  statuesque  impassiveness  seem  like  those  of 
Nemesis,  mutely  contemplating  the  atrocities  of 
men  before  the  falling  of  her  avenging  sword. 
No  one  knew  better  than  Bryant  the  strength  of 
a  cause  fortified  behind  traditional  and  constitu 
tional  intrenchments,  and  no  one  knew  better  than 
he  the  folly  of  a  strife  in  which  the  material  in 
terests  of  a  powerful  people  are  arrayed  on  the 
one  side  against  the  mere  fulminations  of  moralists 
on  the  other.  He  was  content  to  plead  for  the 
restriction  of  slavery  within  its  original  limits, 
and  for  the  freedom  of  discussion,  believing  that 
the  economic  interests  of  man,  as  well  as  his  moral 
nature,  would  ultimately  oppose,  and  expel  without 
bloodshed,  a  system  of  enforced  labor.  He  was 
willing  to  await  the  "  appointed  time  ;  "  but,  when 
at  length  it  came,  he  sang  the  dirge  of  Slavery  in 
words  that  were  gathering  force  during  a  long 
period  of  silence  :  — 

"  O  thou  great  Wrong,  that,  through  the  slow-paced  years, 
Didst  hold  thy  millions  fettered,  and  didst  wield 
The  scourge  that  drove  the  laborer  to  the  field, 
And  turn  a  stony  gaze  on  human  tears ! 
Thy  cruel  reign  is  o'er  : 
Thy  bondmen  crouch  no  more 
In  terror  at  the  menace  of  thine  eye; 

For  lie  who  marks  the  bounds  of  guilty  power, 
Long-suffering,  hath  heard  the  captive's  cry, 

And  touched  his  shackles  at  the  appointed  hour, 
And,  lo  !  they  fall,  and  he  whose  limbs  they  galled 
Stands  in  his  native  manhood,  disenthralled." 


THE  JOURNALIST.  177 

It  is  probable  that  one  of  the  checks  upon  Bry 
ant's  pen  during  the  problematic  period  of  the 
slavery  question  was  a  fear  that  an  untimely  revo 
lution  might  dismember  the  nation.  The  unity  of 
the  nation  was  a  precious  thing  in  his  sight,  and 
never  once  did  he  fail  to  censure  every  tendency 
toward  disruption.  Free-trader  as  he  was,  when 
the  nullification  of  a  national  law  was  proposed  by 
the  Southern  believers  in  his  economic  theory  he 
at  once  opposed  their  measure,  and  declared, 
"  The  moment  that  our  government  ceases  to  be 
supported  by  the  force  of  opinion  in  any  consid 
erable  portion  of  its  territory,  that  moment  it  is  at 
an  end.  It  is  a  dangerous  experiment  that  some 
politicians  are  making,  —  to  discover  the  utmost 
limit  of  this  force  of  opinion,  and  at  what  point  it 
will  cease  to  support  the  execution  of  the  laws  in 
a  large  part  of  the  Union.  It  is  worse.  It  is  a 
flagitious  experiment,  a  danger  unnecessarily  and 
wantonly  incurred."  This  was  in  1832.  When, 
nearly  thirty  years  later,  secession  threatened  the 
dismemberment  of  the  nation,  he  earnestly  advo 
cated  the  prosecution  of  the  war  for  the  resto 
ration  of  the  Union. 

His  advocacy  of  equal  rights  was  not  less  vigor 
ous  than  his  zeal  for  a  united  country.  Whenever 
a  right  seemed  to  be  invaded,  he  was  sure  to  appear 
as  a  champion  for  the  one  whom  he  thought  to  be 
wronged.  When  the  smoke  of  battle  had  rolled 


178        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BEY  ANT. 

away,  and  the  soldiers  of  the  General  Government 
were  still  garrisoning  the  South,  he  maintained 
that  "  these  practices,  which  contemplate  the  sub 
jection  of  local  politics  to  the  federal  authorities 
by  the  exercise  of  military  power,  must  be  stopped, 
must  be  broken  up  forever." 

He  was  particularly  fond  of  questions  of  finance, 
and  had  clear  opinions  upon  every  phase  of  mone 
tary  matters  during  the  entire  history  of  the  coun 
try.  He  readily  transferred  to  the  nation  the 
rules  of  business  which  apply  to  individuals ;  and 
maintained  that  integrity  of  purpose,  and  fidelity 
to  pledges,  are  equally  binding  on  states  and  per 
sons,  and  as  essential  to  the  financial  standing  of 
the  former  as  of  the  latter.  Hence,  when  the  ne 
cessity  for  its  existence  was  removed,  he  strove 
to  exchange  an  irredeemable  paper  currency  for 
the  money  of  the  world,  according  to  the  spirit  of 
the  public  promises  when  they  were  made  in  the 
hour  of  danger. 

In  the  earlier  years  of  his  career  as  a  journalist 
he  wrote  with  an  emphasis  and  fire  that  often 
brought  him  into  controversy,  and  aroused  the 
hostility  of  his  political  opponents.  This  was 
incident  to  the  faithful  discharge  of  his  duty  as 
a  public  critic ;  and,  had  he  done  otherwise,  there 
would  linger  the  suspicion  that  he  was  a  mere 
trimmer.  Yet,  remembering  these  conflicts,  and 
speaking  of  him  as  wearing  the  panoply  of  his 


THE   JOUHNALIST.  179 

profession,  and  crossing  swords  in-  the  resounding 
arena,  a  fellow  journalist  who  has  long  participated 
in  the  struggle,  and  often  under  a  different  ban 
ner,  —  George  W.  Curtis,  —  uses  this  language  : 
"  In  all  the  long,  tumultuous  years  of  his  editorial 
life,  does  any  memory,  however  searching  or  cen 
sorious,  recall  one  line  that  he  wrote  which  was 
not  honest  and  pure ;  one  measure  that  he  defend 
ed  except  from  the  profoundest  conviction  of  its 
usefulness  to  the  cou*ntry ;  one  cause  that  he  advo 
cated,  which  any  friend  of  liberty,  of  humanity,  of 
good  government,  would  deplore?  ...  It  is  the 
lesson  of  this  editorial  life,  that  public  service  the 
most  resplendent,  on  sea  or  shore,  in  cabinet  or 
congress,  however  great  and  beneficent,  is  not  a 
truer  service  than  that  of  the  private  citizen  like 
Bryant,  who  for  half  a  century,  with  conscience 
and  knowledge,  with  power  and  unquailing  cour 
age,  held  the  hand  and  heart  of  his  country  true 
to  her  own  glorious  ideal."  1 

In  connection  with  his  economic  and  political 
teaching,  Bryant  strove  to  make  his  paper  an 
educational  power  among  its  readers  by  diffusing 
scientific  and  practical  information,  and  by  stimu 
lating  the  public  mind  to  the  enjoyment  of  litera 
ture  and  art.  The  public  health  was  ever  dear 
to  him,  and  he  was  interested  in  every  sanitary 
improvement. 

1  Address  before  the  New-York  Historical  Society. 


180         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

He  had  the  advantage  of  able  assistance  in  the 
conduct  of  the  paper.  The  Hon.  John  Bigelow, 
whose  name  is  known  in  literature  and  diplomacy, 
and  Mr.  Parke  Godwin,  who  has  been  previously 
mentioned,  brought  to  the  aid  of  the  editor-in- 
chief  both  enterprise  and  literary  skill.  Mr.  W. 
O.  Bartlett  has  the  credit  of  infusing  life  into  the 
business  management  of  the  paper,  and  of  putting 
it  into  the  hands  of  the  newsboys.  During  the 
latter  years  of  his  life  Bryant  was  almost  wholly 
relieved  of  editorial  labor  by  a  talented  corps  of 
assistants. 

Bryant  looked  to  journalism  for  his  bread,  and 
pursued  it  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life  as  dili 
gently  as  he  would  have  followed  any  other  voca 
tion.  His  poetry  was  never  a  considerable  source 
of  pecuniary  profit  to  him,  and  he  held  his  gift  of 
song  too  sacred  to  mortgage  his  inspirations.  His 
associate,  Mr.  Bigelow,  informs  us  that  he  never 
engaged  in  any  other  business  than  journalism, 
never  embarked  in  any  financial  speculations,  and 
was  never  an  officer  of  any  other  financial  or 
industrial  corporation  than  "  The  Evening  Post." 
Speaking  of  his  industry,  he  adds,  uHe  was  as 
loyal  to  his  profession  as  it  was  to  him.  I  think  it 
quite  safe  to  say  that  for  five  days  out  of  every 
week,  during  at  least  forty-two  of  his  fifty-two 
years  of  editorial  service,  Mr.  Bryant  was  at  his 
editorial  desk  before  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 


THE  JOURNALIST.  181 

and  left  the  daily  impress  of  his  character  and 
genius  in  some  form  upon  the  columns  of  his 
journal." 1  Nor  was  he  e.ver  satisfied  with  the 
apparent  performance  of  his  duty.  He  measured 
his  contributions  to  the  paper  rather  by  quality 
than  quantity.  When  asked  how  he  had  managed 
to  preserve  his  style  in  such  purity  under  the  dete 
riorating  influences  of  his  exacting  profession,  he 
replied,  "  If  my  style  has  fewer  defects  than  you 
expect,  it  is  for  the  reason,  I  suppose,  which  Dr. 
Johnson  gave  Boswell  for  conversing  so  well:  I 
always  write  my  best."  When  reminded  of  the 
daily  emergencies  when  there  is  no  time  to  choose 
words,  and  the  only  alternative  to  a  hasty  article 
is  none  at  all,  he  answered,  "  I  would  sooner  the 
paper  would  go  to  press  without  an  editorial  article 
than  send  to  the  printer  one  I  was  not  satisfied 
with." 

His  relations  with  the  members  of  his  editorial 
staff  are  best  presented  in  the  language  of  an  asso 
ciate  :  — 

"  He  was  reserved  always  by  nature ;  but  his  reserve  was 
rather  that  of  shy  modesty  than  that  of  conscious  worth  : 
and,  in  his  intercourse  with  his  associates  in  the  office  of 
'The  Evening  Post,'  he  was  always  singularly  frank  and 
easy.  He  even  avoided  that  appearance  of  superior  author 
ity  which  is  almost  inseparable  from  the  exercise  of  control 
over  the  working  of  a  newspaper  staff.  His  few  and  infre 
quent  commands  were  requests  always:  and  not  only  so; 

1  Address  before  the  Century  Club. 


182        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

they  were  requests  framed  in  the  language  and  uttered  in 
the  tone  of  one  who  asks  a  favor,  not  of  one  who  merely 
wishes  to  disguise  a  command. 

"  Notwithstanding  his  age  and  his  chiefship  in  the  office, 
he  never,  to  my  knowledge,  sent  for  any  member  of  his  staff 
to  come  to  him :  if  he  had  aught  to  say,  he  went  to  the 
person  to  whom  he  wished  to  say  it.  He  would  pass 
through  the  editorial  rooms  with  a  cheery  '  Good-morning; ' 
he  would  sit  down  by  one's  desk  and  talk,  if  there  was  aught 
.to  talk  about  ;  or,  if  asked  a  question  while  passing,  would 
stand  while  answering  it,  and  frequently  would  relate  some 
anecdote  suggested  by  the  question,  or  offer  some  apt  quota 
tion  to  illustrate  the  subject  under  discussion."  1 

The  same  writer  says  that  he  was  requested  by 
the  editor-in-chief  to  "deal  very  gently  with  the 
poets,  especially  the  weaker  ones."  On  one  occa 
sion  the  reviewer  fell  upon  a  sad  case  of  "  poetic 
idiocy,"  and  expressed  his  embarrassment  to  Bry 
ant,  saying  that  the  book  was  so  poor  that  there 
was  nothing  in  it  "to  praise,  or  even  lightly  to 
condemn."  —  "  No,"  he  replied ;  "  you  can't  praise 
it,  of  course  ;  it  won't  do  to  lie  about  it :  but "  — 
turning  the  volume  over  in  his  hand,  and  inspect 
ing  it  —  "  you  might  say  that  the  binding  is  se 
curely  put  on,  and  that  —  well,  the  binder  has 
planed  the  edges  pretty  smooth." 

In  all  details  he  was  a  strict  economist,  and 
made  economy  the  rule  of  the  establishment  by 
his  example  rather  than  by  precepts.  Nearly  all 
his  editorials  were  written  upon  the  backs  of  old 

1  The  Memorial  Pamphlet,  p.  G7. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  183 

letters,  which  a  less  conscientious  man  would  have 
been  ashamed  to  use.  His  time  was  carefully 
economized;  and,  though  he  had  his  hours  of 
relaxation  and  literary  diversion,  no  fragment  of 
time  was  wasted.  Even  his  amusements  were 
parts  of  a  comprehensive  system. 

Absolute  truthfulness  was  a  law  of  his  life. 
Whatever  he  said  he  believed  to  be  true,  and  even 
"his  silence  was  truthful."  He  never  flattered, 
and  seldom  praised.  His  virtue  led  him  almost  to 
rudeness,  in  the  judgment  of  many ;  and  he  has 
been  charged  with  being  more  frigid  than  gentility 
permits.  His  friends,  however,  found  him  cordial, 
and  attribute  his  apparent  insensibility  to  an  un 
willingness  to  express  an  interest  which  he  did  not 
feel. 

As  we  look  back  over  the  half-century  of  Bry 
ant's  life  as  an  editor,  we  learn  two  important 
lessons.  The  first  is,  that  the  highest  literary 
character  can  be  maintained  by  one  who  is  daily 
engaged  in  the  practical  discussions  of  his  time : 
the  second  is,  that  personal  nobility  of  mind,  and 
integrity  of  life,  may  be  preserved  in  the  midst  of 
political  controversy.  To  have  taught  these  les 
sons  alone  is  a  sufficient  result  for  a  lifetime  of  toil 
and  sacrifice.  Whoever  henceforth  doubts  that  a 
man  may  be  at  once  a  serene  scholar,  a  pure 
moralist,  a  faithful  citizen,  and  an  active  politician, 
may  be  directed  with  republican  pride  to  the  career 
of  William  Cullen  Bryant. 


184         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BBYANT. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  POET. 

PRIOR  to  the  publication  of  "  Thanatopsis," 
no  poem  that  any  one  but  a  literary  antiquary 
now  cares  to  read  had  been  written  in  this  coun 
try.  The  student  of  American  poetry  finds  in  the 
text-books  and  encyclopedias  of  literature  a  long 
list  of  poets  belonging  to  the  "  Colonial "  and 
"  Revolutionary  "  periods  ;  but  he  is  generally  sat 
isfied  with  a  few  illustrative  extracts  from  their 
works.  The  more  inquisitive  and  patriotic  scholar 
may  venture  to  wipe  the  dust  from  the  time-worn 
covers,  and  peep  into  the  contents  of  the  original 
volumes.  If  he  succeeds  in  finding  a  copy  of 
Francis  Hopkinson's  "  Battle  of  the  Kegs,"  or 
u  The  New  Roof,"  he  will  have  a  taste  of  amuse 
ment  that  our  ancestors  greatly  enjoyed ;  but  he 
will  not  be  tempted  to  dwell  long  over  his  prize. 
If  he  can  read  enough  of  Philip  Freneau's  versi 
fied  politics  to  feel  safe  in  pronouncing  an  opinion 
on  his  merits  as  a  poet,  he  will  be  surprised  to 


THE  POET.  185 

learn  that  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Thomas  Camp 
bell  thought  some  of  his  lines  good  enough  to  imi 
tate.  If  he  enjoys  political  satire,  he  may  find  in 
John  Trumbull's  "  M'Fingal "  some  passages  that 
will  remind  him  of  "  Hudibras,"  but  will  miss  the 
wealth  of  learning  that  sets  off  the  wit  of  Butler. 
If  he  can  endure  the  unrelieved  monotony  of 
Timothy  Dwight's  "  Conquest  of  Canaan "  long 
enough  to  apply  the  principles  of  epic  composition, 
he  will  discover  that  more  than  combined  learning 
and  piety  are  required  to  make  a  Milton.  If  Joel 
Barlow's  "Hasty  Pudding"  awakens  a  desire  to 
see  his  "  Columbiad,"  that  effort  after  a  national 
epic  will  be  found  more  praiseworthy  in  the  intent 
than  in  the  execution,  hardly  winning  for  its  author 
the  immortality  that  he  craved  as  the  American 
Homer.  By  this  time,  curiosity  and  patriotism  are 
likely  to  be  satisfied ;  and  the  independent  seeker 
after  forgotten  genius  is  willing  to  believe,  with 
his  countrymen  who  have  reached  a  conclusion 
before  him,  that  American  poetry  —  in  the  nobler 
modern  sense  of  the  word  "  poetry  "  — begins  with 
William  Cullen  Bryant. 

Before  1817  it  seemed  to  be  the  highest  ambition 
of  our  native  writers  to  produce  a  faithful  copy  of 
existing  models.  All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
masterpieces  of  a  distant  land,  while  the  most 
romantic  occurrences  and  the  most  charming 
aspects  of  nature  were  without  an  interpreter. 


186         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

The  history  of  literature  furnishes  no  instance 
of  a  more  sudden  transition  from  an  imitative 
to  a  creative  epoch  than  occurred  at  this  time. 
Two  years  after  the  publication  of  "  Thanatopsis," 
Drake's  "  Culprit  Fay "  was  printed.  Halleck, 
Dana,  Sprague,  Percival,  and  others,  soon  after 
added  their  names  to  the  list  of  poets,  and  won 
for  their  country  a  place  among  the  nations  as  a 
land  of  song. 

Ben  Jonson  disputed  the  second  statement  of  the 
ancient  proverb,  Poeta  nascitur,  non  fit,  and  con 
tended  that  a  poet  is  made  as  well  as  born.  The 
reader  who  compares  Bryant's  juvenile  verses 
with  his  maturer  productions  will  be  likely  to 
admit  that  the  old  dramatist  was  not  wholly 
wrong  in  qualifying  the  proverb.  The  facts  of 
Bryant's  life  show  that  his  poetical  skill  was  ac 
quired,  in  part  at  least,  by  a  careful  study  of  the 
best  poetry.  We  have  seen  how  he  was  guided 
by  his  father  to  the  favorite  authors  of  his  youth. 
"  The  Bryant  Homestead  Book "  informs  us  of 
his  early  acquaintance  with  the  poems  of  Kirke 
White  and  Southey.  A  critical  article  in  "  The 
North-American  Review,"  written  by  him  at  the 
age  of  twenty-five,  proves  his  familiarity  with 
Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Cowley, 
Dryden,  Waller,  Young,  Cowper,  and  Thomson. 
He  had  even  studied,  with  some  attention,  many 
of  the  more  obscure  writers  of  English  verse,  such 


THE   POET.  187 

as  Glover,  Cumberland,  Dyer,  Denham,  Darwin, 
and  some  of  the  minor  dramatists.  He  was 
familiar  also  with  the  attempts  at  poetry  in  his 
own  land,  and  reviewed,  with  evident  command 
of  his  subject,  and  minute  acquaintance  with 
their  works,  the  leading  American  versifiers  who 
had  preceded  him.  These  studies  were  not  mere 
diversions,  but  earnest  efforts  to  grasp  the  prin 
ciples  of  poetical  composition.  His  article  on 
"  Trisyllabic  Feet  in  Iambic  Verse  "  l  shows  how 
closely  and  patiently  he  attended  to  the  technics 
of  versification.  This  early  interest  in  the  writings 
of  others  was  sustained  to  the  end  of  his  life  ;  and 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six  he  wrote  a  brief  history 
of  English  poetry,  from  which  it  appears  that 
little  of  merit  in  the  whole  range  of  English  verse 
escaped  his  critical  attention.  In  the  sketch  re 
ferred  to  he  avows  his  belief  that  all  true  poets 
in  a  literary  age  are  indebted  to  others.  "  In  our 
day,"  he  says,  "the  style  of  writing  adopted  by 
eminent  living  poets  is  often  seen  reflected  in 
the  verses  of  their  younger  contemporaries,  some 
times  with  an  effect  like  that  of  a  face  beheld  in 
a  tarnished  mirror.  Thus  it  is  that  poets  are 
formed  by  their  influence  upon  one  another :  the 
greatest  of  them  are  more  or  less  indebted  for 
what  they  are  to  their  predecessors  and  their  con 
temporaries."  2  Bryant  himself  was  no  exception 

1  North- American  Review,  September,  1819,  p.  426. 

2  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song. 


188         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BKYANT. 

to  his  own  rule.  The  chief  differences  between 
him  and  the  versifiers  who  preceded  him  are,  that 
he  was  a  poet  by  birth  as  well  as  by  training,  and 
that  he  was  better  trained. 

A  moment's  reflection  suggests  the  inquiry, 
Could  such  a  profound  student  of  poetry  as 
Bryant  have  been  without  a  theory  of  the  poetic 
art  ?  If  he  had  a  theory,  and  it  is  discoverable  by 
us,  what  better  key  to  his  works  could  we  have, 
or  what  better  standard  by  which  to  judge  him  ? 
Although  he  has  nowhere  stated  such  a  theory  in 
a  full  and  exhaustive  manner,  we  may  gather 
many  of  his  doctrines  from  his  expressed  views 
on  the  nature,  aim,  and  method  of  poetry.  It 
may  be  more  perspicuous  to  group  these  scattered 
doctrines  in  a  systematic  form. 

1.  The  proper  office  of  poetry  is  to  fill  the  mind 
delightful  images,  and  awaken  the  gentler 
emotions.1  This  doctrine  excludes  from  the  realm 
of  the  poetical  all  that  is  coarse,  grotesque,  or  dis 
gusting,  as  not  furnishing  "  delightful  images."  It 
forbids  the  excitation  of  sensual  passions,  and  the 
violent  agitation  of  the  soul  by  terrific  scenes 
and  events,  as  not  included  in  the  awakening  of 
the  "gentler  emotions."  It  strikes  at  the  root 
of  the  favorite  modern  notion,  that  art  is  merely 
representative,  and  may  portray  any  scene,  or  de 
scribe  any  object,  without  reference  to  its  char- 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxiv. 


THE   POET.  189 

acter.  And  yet  Bryant  was  not  narrow  in  his 
judgment  of  others.  "  The  varieties  of  poetic  ex 
cellence,"  he  says,  "are  as  great  as  the  varieties 
of  beauty  in  flowers  or  in  the  female  face.  .  .  . 
As  well,  in  looking  through  an  astronomer's  tele 
scope  at  that  beautiful  phenomenon,  a  double  star, 
in  which  the  twin-flames  are  one  of  a  roseate  and 
the  other  of  a  golden  tint,  might  we  quarrel  with 
either  of  them  because  it  is  not  colored  like  its 
fellow."  l  He  loves  his  own  ideal ;  but  he  does 
not  deride  other  men's  ideals  as  scarecrows. 

2.  Only  poems  of  moderate  length,  or  portions 
of  greater  poems,  produce  the  poetical  effect.2  In 
this  he  agrees  with  Poe,  who  held  that  a  long 
poem  is  impossible.  As  the  end  of  poetry  is  to 
awaken  the  emotions,  and  as  these  are  necessarily 
of  short  duration,  an  attempt  to  sustain  them 
beyond  a  moderate  limit  must  be  unsuccessful. 
Besides,  the  production  of  the  gentler  emotions 
"  is  not  accomplished  on  a  first  and  rapid  perusal, 
but  requires  that  the  words  should  be  dwelt  upon 
until  they  become  in  a  certain  sense  our  own,  and 
are  adopted  as  the  utterance  of  our  own  minds."  3 
"  Nor,  although  it  be  true  that  the  poems  which 
are  most  famous  and  most  highly  prized  are  works 
of  considerable  length,  can  it  be  said  that  the 
pleasure  they  give  is  in  any  degree  proportionate 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxv. 

2  Id.,  p.  xxiv.  a  Id.,  p.  xxiv. 


190        LITE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

to  the  extent  of  their  plan."  l  Speaking  of  "  The 
Fairie  Queene,"  he  says,  "  In  it  we  have  an  in 
vention  ever  awake,  active,  and  apparently  inex 
haustible;  an  affluence  of  imagery  grand,  beauti 
ful,  or  magnificent,  as  the  subject  may  require  ; 
wise  observations  on  human  life  steeped  in  poetic 
coloring,  and  not  without  touches  of  pathos;  a 
wonderful  mastery  of  versification,  and  the  aptest 
forms  of  expression.  We  read  at  first  with  admi 
ration:  yet  to  this  ere  long  succeeds  a  sense  of 
satiety ;  and  we  lay  down  the  book,  not  unwilling, 
however,  after  an  interval,  to  take  it  up  with 
renewed  admiration."2  The  doctrine  is  enforced 
by  the  fact  that  the  longer  poems  in  our  language, 
even  the  best,  are  seldom  read  through,  and  live 
in  the  thoughts  of  men  more  by  their  noble  pas 
sages  than  as  totalities. 

3.  Poetry  should  be  free  from  "  far-fetched  con- 
ideas  oddly  brought  together,  and  quaint 
turns  of  thought."  3  Bryant  recognized  the  psy 
chological  fact,  that  the  processes  of  thought  and 
the  flow  of  feeling  are  antagonistic.  The  effort 
of  the  intellect  to  catch  the  articulations  of  reason 
demands  the  hush  of  passion.  Hence  niceties  of 
intellectual  refinement  tend  to  check  the  sponta 
neous  flow  of  the  feelings,  and  so  frustrate  the 
ends  of  poetry.  He  finds  fault  with  the  artificial 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxiv. 

2  Id.,  p.  xxvii.  3  Id.,  p.  xxiv. 


THE  POET.  191 

school  of  Pope,  as  "  a  school  in  which  the  wit  pre 
dominated  over  the  poetry,  —  a  school  marked  by 
striking  oppositions  of  thought,  frequent  happi 
nesses  of  expression,  and  a  carefully-balanced 
modulation,  —  numbers  pleasing  at  first,  but  in 
the  end  fatiguing." l  He  has  little  admiration 
for  the  so-called  metaphysical  poets,  —  "a  class  of 
wits  whose  whole  aim  was  to  extort  admiration  by 
ingenious  conceits,  thoughts  of  such  unexpected 
ness  and  singularity,  that  one  wondered  how  they 
could  ever  come  into  the  mind  of  the  author. 
For  what  they  regarded  as  poetic  effect,  they  de 
pended,  not  upon  the  sense  of  beauty  or  grandeur, 
not  upon  depth  or  earnestness  of  feeling,  but 
simply  upon  surprise  at  quaint  and  strange  resem 
blances,  contrasts,  and  combinations  of  ideas."2 
In  pursuing  this  perverted  notion  of  poetry  in 
some  of  its  modern  forms,  he  states  a  fact  that 
must  not  be  overlooked  by  those  who  compare 
him  with  contemporary  poets,  and  miss  in  his 
writings  some  qualities  which  are  popular  among 
certain  classes  of  readers.  "  There  are  two  ten 
dencies,"  he  says,  "by  which  the  seekers  after 
poetic  fame  in  our  day  are  apt  to  be  misled, 
through  both  the  example  of  others  and  the  ap 
plause  of  critics.  One  of  these  is  the  desire  to 
extort  admiration  by  striking  novelties  of  expres- 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxiv. 

2  Id.,  p.  xxvii. 


192         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

sion ;  and  the  other,  the  ambition  to  distinguish 
themselves  by  subtilties  of  thought  remote  from 
the  common  apprehension." 1  Such  writing  seemed 
to  him  to  be  versified  philosophy,  or  versified  non 
sense  ;  but  poetry  it  was  not. 

4.  Poetry  demands  a  "fearless   simplicity"  of 
style.2     He  regarded  Wordsworth  as   almost   the 
first  English  poet  "who  did  not   seem   in   some 
degree  to  labor  under  the  apprehension  of  becom 
ing  too  simple  and  natural  to  imagine  that  a  cer 
tain   pomp  of  words   is   necessary  to  elevate  the 
style,    and   make   that  grand   and   noble,  which, 
in   its   direct   expression,  would    be    homely  and 
trivial." 3     He  hails  with  delight  the  signs  of  the 
disappearance  of  "hackneyed  phrases,"  used   for 
the  rounding-out  of  a  line ;  the  "  stiff  Latinisms, 
and  all  the  awkward  distortions  resorted   to   by 
those  who   thought,  that,  by  putting  a   sentence 
out  of  its   proper  shape,  they  were  writing   like 

ilton." 

5.  The  materials  of  poetry  are  found  in  the  per 
manent  surroundings  of  life.4     Transient  interests 
find  expression  in  verse,  and  sometimes  win  popu 
lar  attention  for  the  moment ;  but  they  are  soon 
forgotten.     Tastes  fluctuate,  and  the  fashions  of 
one  age  are  laid  aside  in  the  next.     Yet  there  is 
something  permanent.     "  The  elements  of  poetry 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxix. 

2  Id.,  p.  xxviii.  8  Id.,  p.  xxviii.  *  Id.,  p.  xxx. 


THE  POET.  193 

lie  in  natural  objects,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  in 
the  emotions  of  the  human  heart,  and  the  relations 
of  man  and  man.  He  who  can  present  them  in 
combinations  and  lights  which  at  once  affect  the 
mind  with  a  deep  sense  of  their  truth  and  beauty 
is  the  poet  for  his  own  age  and  the  ages  that  suc 
ceed  it.  It  is  no  disparagement  to  either  his  skill 
or  his  power  that  he  finds  them  near  at  hand :  the 
nearer  they  lie  to  the  common  track  of  the  human 
intelligence,  the  more  certain  is  he  of  the  sympa 
thy  of  his  own  generation,  and  of  those  which  shall 
come  after  him."  l 

6.  Poetry  is  not  free  from  the  laws  of  ethics. 
At  this  point  he  differed  from  those  who  maintain 
that  art  exists  for  its  own  sake,  and  is  absolute  in 
its  freedom.  He  believed  that  all  things  come 
within  the  sweep  of  moral  restrictions.  When  a 
pretended  son  of  Lord  Byron  visited  New  York 
with  verses  which  he  claimed  were  written  by  his 
father,  Bryant  said  to  a  friend  who  had  mentioned 
the  verses,  "  We  have  poems  enough  of  Byron 
already."  With  Byron's  misanthropy,  gloom, 
scoffing,  and  libertinism,  he  had  no  sympathy. 
His  opinion  of  such  poetry  as  that  of  Swinburne 
and  Rossetti  has  been  given  in  another  place.  In 
his  noble  lines  on  "  The  Poet "  he  has  praised 
"  burning  words  in  fluent  strains ; "  but  they  are 
"  words  inspired  by  wonder  and  delight,"  not  those 

1  Introduction  to  The  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,  p.  xxx. 


194         LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BKYANT. 

of  cynicism,  lust,  or  discontent.     He  would  have 
the  poet  "  bind  the  fleet  emotion  fast :  "  — 

"  Yet  let  no  empty  gust 

Of  passion  find  utterance  in  thy  lay,  — 
A  blast  that  whirls  the  dust 

Along  the  howling  street,  and  dies  away ; 
But  feelings  of  calm  power  and  mighty  sweep, 
Like  currents  journeying  through  the  windless  deep." 

Such  were  the  canons  of  Bryant's  art.  Are  they 
the  true  principles  of  poetry?  Some  will  answer, 
"No:  they  are  but  half-truths.  Tried  by  them, 
almost  every  poet  would  pass  from  the  tribunal 
stripped  of  his  bays."  No  one  knew  this  better 
than  Bryant  himself.  "  Let  us  beware,"  he  says, 
"of  assigning  too  narrow  limits  to  the  causes 
which  produce  the  poetic  exaltation  of  mind." 
He  would  not  deny  that  gross  images  may  be 
pleasing  to  some,  that  the  stronger  emotions  may 
be  expressed  in  verse,  that  a  long  composition 
may  be  poetical  in  parts,  that  far-fetched  conceits 
may  attract  many  readers,  that  complexity  of 
structure  may  be  required  by  some  tastes,  that  the 
materials  of  poetry  may  be  brought  from  afar,  or 
that  immoral  verses  may  excite  the  mind ;  but  to 
Mm  all  these  were  defects  that  should  not  be  found 
in  an  ideal  poem.  If  any  one  prefers  these  to  their 
opposites,  they  constitute  poetry  for  such  a  one ; 
but  man  as  man,  he  thought,  could  not  prefer 
them.  He  made  no  secret  of  his  desire  to  live 


THE  POET.  195 

in  the  hearts  of  future  generations.  He  regarded 
poetry  as  a  high  vocation,  and  the  powers  of  his  art 
as  a  sacred  trust.  He  would  not  barter  his  verses 
for  gold,  nor  would  he  violate  his  instincts  of  art 
for  the  applause  of  an  hour.  The  occasions  for 
wit,  the  objects  of  satire,  the  recipients  of  adula 
tion,  he  knew  would  soon  pass  away,  and  with 
them  the  poet  who  dazzled  or  stung  or  flattered 
for  a  moment  would  quickly  be  forgotten.  Two 
things  he  saw  to  be  abiding,  —  the  heart  of  Man 
and  the  beauty  of  Nature.  These  he  knew  would 
never  fail,  the  one  to  be  improved  by  the  develop 
ment  of  its  powers  of  apprehension  and  enjoyment, 
the  other  to  be  studied  and  appreciated  with  the , 
advancement  of  mankind.  Hence  he  sang  little  of  . 
the  transient,  but  much  of  the  eternal.  He  retired 
from  the  hum  of  the  multitude  to  catch  the  faint 
whispers  of  Nature  to  his  own  heart,  as  Numa 
sought  communion  with  the  nymph  Egeria. 

In  fulfilment  of  his  own  ambition,  Bryant  has 
been  received  as  the  poet  of  Nature.  Here,  and 
here  only,  he  is  unsurpassed,  not  only  by  his  own  * 
countrymen,  but  by  any  poet  of  any  time  or  land. 
He  has  often  been  compared  to  Wordsworth,  and 
has  even  been  called  "  the  Wordsworth  of  Amer 
ica."  His  admiration  of  Wordsworth  was  undis 
guised,  and  the  first  reading  of  that  writer's  poems 
was  one  of  the  memorable  delights  of  his  life.  He 
once  told  Richard  H.  Dana,  that,  "  upon  opening 


196        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Wordsworth,  a  thousand  springs  seemed  to  gush 
up  at  once  in  his  heart,  and  the  face  of  Nature  of 
a  sudden  to  change  into  a  strange  freshness  and 
life."  1  If,  however,  there  are  some  points  of  re 
semblance  between  the  two  poets,  there  are  also 
many  differences.  They  are  alike  in  their  fond 
ness  for  Nature,  their  unaffected  love  of  truth, 
and  their  severe  simplicity ;  but  there  are  not  to 
be  found  in  Bryant  the  "  flimsy  philosophy  about 
the  effects  of  scenery  upon  the  mind,"  the  "  crazy 
mystical  metaphysics,"  or  the  "  endless  wilderness 
of  dull,  flat,  prosaic  declamations,"  that  Macaulay 
ascribed  to  Wordsworth. 

There  are  but  two  periods  in  Bryant's  life  as  a 
poet.  The  first  is  that  of  his  childhood,  when  he 
drank  in  the  pure  airs  of  his  native  hills,  and 
plucked  the  fresh  spring  flowers  in  their  fragrant 
dells :  the  second  is  that  of  felt  responsibility, 
when  study  and  toil  imposed  their  exactions  upon 
him.  This  second  period  begins  with  his  career 
as  a  student  in  college.  In  the  first  period,  his 
verses  are,  as  we  have  seen,  mostly  political,  the 
world  of  politics  seeming  to  him  to  possess  more 
of  interest  than  his  quiet  home-life  :  with  the 
beginning  of  the  second  period,  Nature,  dear  to 
him  because  communion  with  her  visible  forms 
was  delightful  in  contrast  with  isolation  from  her 
charms,  becomes  the  chief  source  of  his  enjoyment. 

1  Preface  to  The  Idle  Man. 


THE   POET.  197 

In  the  first  period  there  is  nothing  that  the  world 
cares  to  possess,  or  that  the  poet  himself  esteemed 
sufficiently  to  ^preserve  :  the  second  period  em 
braces  the  remainder  of  his  life,  and  is  nowhere 
marked  by  any  radical  change  in  his  conceptions 
of  poetry  or  in  his  style.  The  author  of  "  The 
Ages  "  and  of  "  The  Flood  of  Years  "  is  evidently 
the  same.  The  only  difference  between  the  ear 
liest  and  the  latest  productions  of  this  period  of 
sixty  years  is,  that  some  of  the  later  poems  exhibit 
a  finer  finish ;  but  even  this  is  not  everywhere 
perceptible.  The  type  of  all  these  productions 
is  in  essence  the  same.  Within  these  sixty  years 
new  stars  flashed  forth  in  the  firmament  of  poetry, 
a  few  to  shine  on  with  undiminished  brilliancy, 
many  to  be  quickly  lost  in  darkness ;  but,  like  the 
pole-star,  the  genius  of  Bryant  has  shone  on  un 
changed,  sometimes  not  much  noticed,  but  always 
visible. 

Bryant  saw  little  in  man  or  in  society  that  he 
deemed  worthy  of  his  verse.  Love  has  scarcely 
at  all  employed  his  pen.  Human  character  seems 
not  to  have  been  a  favorite  study  with  him.  The 
follies  of  men  were  not  sufficiently  elevated  themes 
for  his  poetical  treatment.  The  great  wrongs  of 
society  are  seldom  either  lamented  or  arraigned  in 
his  poems.  Even  slavery,  which  has  so  often  in 
spired  Whittier  and  Longfellow,  only  once  fur 
nished  him  with  a  subject,  and  then  not  until  it 


198        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BEY  ANT. 

was  a  thing  of  the  past.  This  would  be  remark 
able  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  Bryant  was  a 
journalist  as  well  as  a  poet.  Almost  every  day 
for  the  greater  part  of  his  life  he  was  called  upon, 
as  a  professional  critic  of  public  men,  measures, 
and  institutions,  to  express  his  feelings,  and  pro 
nounce  his  judgments.  At  the  editorial  desk  he 
faced  a  world  in  which  man  is  the  most  conspicu 
ous  object.  Here  he  was  compelled  to  study  him 
in  all  his  Protean  forms,  and  to  observe,  record, 
approve,  or  censure  his  actions.  It  is  not  strange, 
therefore,  that  he  shrank  from  the  contemplation 
of  human  life  when  he  sat  alone  in  his  quiet 
library.  Here  he  retired  from  the  bustling  whirl 
of  society  to  meditate  upon  the  calm,  sweet 
scenes  of  Nature,  and  to  interrogate  his  own 
heart.  Had  his  daily  life  been  different,  had  he 
touched  the  busy  world  at  fewer  points  of  con 
tact,  he  might  have  found  delight  in  employing 
his  leisure  hours  in  the  analysis  of  man  and  the 
portraiture  of  character. 

Most  of  Bryant's  themes  are  drawn  in  some  way 
from  Nature.  Out  of  a  hundred  and  seventy-one 
original  poems,  more  than  a  hundred  treat  of 
some  natural  object,  scene,  or  phenomenon;  and 
in  nearly  all  the  others  the  charms  of  Nature  con 
stitute  the  setting.  A  glance  at  the  titles  of  his 
poems  shows  his  preference  for  themes  suggested 
by  Nature,  —  the  flowers,  as  "  The  Yellow  Violet," 


THE   POET.  199 

and  "  The  Fringed  Gentian ;  "  the  winds,  as  "  The 
West  Wind,"  «  Summer  Wind,"  and  «  The  Even 
ing  Wind ; "  the  months  of  the  year,  as  "  March," 
44  June,"  "October,"  and  "November,;"  the  forces 
of  Nature,  as  "After  a  Tempest,"  "The  Hurri 
cane,"  and  "  The  Tides ; "  common  incidents  in 
the  natural  world,  as  "  The  Return  of  the  Birds," 
and  "The  Planting  of  the  Apple-Tree;"  aspects 
of  Nature,  as  "The  Cloud,"  "The  Firmament," 
and  "  The  Prairies ;  "  studies  of  common  things, 
as  "The  Snow-Shower,"  and  "Among  the  Trees;" 
the  mutations  of  time,  as  "  The  Past,"  and  "  The 
Return  of  Youth ; "  fancies  founded  on  natural 
phenomena,  as  "  A  Rain-Dream,"  and  "  The  Flood 
of  Years." 

There  are  many  methods  of  dealing  with  Na 
ture  in  poetry.  Those  adopted  by  Bryant  are  as 
numerous,  as  various,  and  as  profound,  as  those 
employed  by  any  other  poet.  In  order  to  appre 
ciate  the  resources  of  his  art,  some  of  his  favorite 
methods  may  be  described  and  illustrated. 

1.  The  simplest  mode  of  dealing  with  Nature, 
and  one  in  which  Bryant  specially  delights,  is  to 
recall  to  the  imagination,  by  vivid  description, 
natural  scenes,  and  the  pleasures  which  they  afford.*/ 
There  is  a  kind  of  enjoyment  in  the  mere  presence 
of  the  sights  and  sounds  .of-  Nature.  The  child 
pines  for  them  in  his  confinement,  and  is  full  of 
glee,  without  knowing  why,  when  turned  loose  in 


200         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BKYANT. 

the  fields  or  woods.  The  pure,  bracing  air,  the 
clear  sky,  the  rich  sunlight,  the  many-hue d  flow 
ers,  the  green  leaves,  the  sparkling  streams,  the 
odors  of  the. woods,  the  varied  landscapes,  —  all 
invigorate  the  mind,  and  restore  its  freshness  and 
vivacity.  There  is  something  healing  in  green 
pastures  and  the  songs  of  birds.  This  medicinal 
power  of  open-air  life  is  especially  welcome  to  those 
who  seldom  enjoy  it.  Bryant's  verse  has  about  it 
this  out-of-doors  quality.  What  a  transcript  of 
Nature  is  this  passage  in  "  A  Summer  Ramble  " !  — 

"  The  quiet  August  noon  has  come ; 

A  slumberous  silence  fills  the  sky; 
The  fields  are  still;  the  woods  are  dumb; 

In  glassy  sleep  the  waters  lie. 

« 

And  mark  yon  soft  white  clouds  that  rest 
Above  our  vale,  a  moveless  throng : 

The  cattle  on  the  mountain's  breast 
Enjoy  the  grateful  shadow  long. 

Oh,  how  unlike  those  merry  hours 
In  early  June,  when  earth  laughs  out, 

When  the  fresh  winds  make  love  to  flowers, 
And  woodlands  sing,  and  waters  shout !  " 

In  the  poem  from  which  the  stanzas  just  quoted 
are  taken,  the  scene  gives  rise  to  reflections  which 
round  the  poem  to  its  close ;  but  sometimes  no 
higher  effect  is  aimed  at  than  to  bring  the  mind 
face  to  face  with  the  charms  of  Nature  for  the 


THE    POET.  201 

delight  of  mere  contemplation.  "  Summer  Wind  " 
belongs  to  this  class  of  poems ;  and  so  perfect  is 
it  of  its  kind,  that  it  is  here  quoted  without 
omission  :  — 

"  It  is  a  sultry  day :  the  sun  has  drunk 
The  dew  that  lay  upon  the  morning  grass  : 
There  is  no  rustling  in  the  lofty  elm 
That  canopies  my  dwelling,  and  its  shade 
Scarce  cools  me.     All  is  silent,  save  the  faint 
And  interrupted  murmur  of  the  bee, 
Settling  on  the  sick  flowers,  and  then  again 
Instantly  on  the  wing.     The  plants  around 
Feel  the  too-potent  fervors  :  the  tall  maize 
Rolls  up  its  long  green  leaves  ;  the  clover  droops 
Its  tender  foliage,  and  declines  its  blooms. 
But  far  in  the  fierce  sunshine  tower  the  hills, 
With  all  their  growth  of  woods,  silent  and  stern, 
As  if  the  scorching  heat  and  dazzling  light 
Were  but  an  element  they  loved.     Bright  clouds, 
Motionless  pillars  of  the  brazen  heaven,  — 
Their  bases  on  the  mountains,  their  white  tops 
Shining  in  the  far  ether,  — fire  the  air 
With  a  reflected  radiance,  and  make  turn 
The  gazer's  eye  away.     For  me,  I  lie 
Languidly  in  the  shade,  where  the  thick  turf, 
Yet  virgin  from  the  kisses  of  the  sun, 
Retains  some  freshness ;  and  I  woo  the  wind, 
That  still  delays  his  coming.     Why  so  slow, 
Gentle  and  voluble  spirit  of  the  air? 
Oh,  come  and  breathe  upon  the  fainting  earth 
Coolness  and  life !     Is  it  that  in  his  caves 
He  hears  me?     See  !  on  yonder  woody  ridge 
The  pine  is  bending  his  proud  top ;  and  now, 


202         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

Among  the  nearer  groves,  chestnut  and  oak 
Are  tossing  their  green  boughs  about.     He  comes  I 
Lo  where  the  grassy  meadow  runs  in  waves ! 
The  deep  distressful  silence  of  the  scene 
Breaks  up  with  mingling  of  unnumbered  sounds, 
And  universal  motion.     He  is  come, 
Shaking  a  shower  of  blossoms  from  the  shrubs, 
And  bearing  on  their  fragrance ;  and  he  brings 
Music  of  birds,  and  rustling  of  young  boughs, 
And  sound  of  swaying  branches,  and  the  voice 
Of  distant  waterfalls.     All,  the  green  herbs 
Are  stirring  in  his  breath ;  a  thousand  flowers, 
By  the  road-side  and  the  borders  of  the  brook, 
Nod  gayly  to  each  other  ;  glossy  leaves 
Are  twinkling  in  the  sun,  as  if  the  dew 
Were  on  them  yet;  and  silver  waters  break 
Into  small  waves,  and  sparkle  as  he  comes." 

Some  of  these  pictures  of  natural  scenes  are 
faultless  in  their  accuracy  of  detail,  and  vividness 
of  effect.  At  any  season  the  description  of  autumn 
in  "  The  Death  of  the  Flowers  "  produces  a  mental 
illusion  that  transports  us  from  real  surroundings 
to  those  of  the  dying  year.  The  solemn  iambic 
measure,  the  representative  objects  introduced, 
and  the  graphic  descriptive  epithets,  combine  to 
create  in  the  mind  an  autumnal  gloom. 

"  The  melancholy  days  are  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 
Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods,  and  meadows  brown 

and  sear. 
Heaped  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove,  the  autumn  leaves  lie 

dead: 
They  rustle  to  the  eddying  gust,  and  to  the  rabbit's  tread. 


THE   POET.  203 

The  robin  and  the  wren  are  flown,  and  from  the  shrubs  the 

py* 

And  from  the  wood-top   calls  the   crow  through   all  the 
gloomy  day." 

With  equal  felicity  of  metre  and  phrase,  and 
with  an  added  onomatopoetic  effect  that  is  almost 
magical,  he  fills  the  mind  with  the  breezy  cheeri- 
ness  of  spring-time  :  — 

"  There's  a  dance  of  leaves  in  that  aspen  bower, 

There's  a  titter  of  winds  in  that  beechen  tree, 
There's  a  smile  on  the  fruit  and  a  smile  on  the  flower, 
And  a  laugh  from  the  brook  that  runs  to  the  sea." 

It  is  noticeable  in  all  of  Bryant's  poems,  that  he 
never  shows  disgust  with  any  thing  in  Nature. 
He  is  pre-eminently  a  "  healthy  poet."  There  is 
everywhere  the  evidence  of  a  strong  vitality,  and , 
a  vigorous  re-action  of  mind  in  response  to  the 
salutations  of  the  external  world.  He  does  not 
present  the  figure  of  a  man  shivering  with  the 
cold  airs  of  winter,  or  perspiring  under  the  heats 
of  summer.  He  is  at  once  as  sensitive  as  a  girl, 
and  as  robust  as  a  mountaineer.  He  enjoys 
equally  the  summer  sunshine  of  the  South,  and 
the  storm-bearing  blasts  of  the  North.  There  is 
no  sentimental  shrinking  from  contact  with  reali 
ties,  no  whining  about  discomfort,  no  condemna 
tion  of  the  established  order  of  things. 

2.  A  second  method  of  presenting  the  beauties 
of  Nature  is  to  engage  the  mind  with  unobserved 


204         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

/resemblances  and  inwoven  fancies.  There  is  a 
/  peculiar  satisfaction  in  discovering  hidden  charms 
and  correspondences  in  natural  objects.  The  ma 
terial  world  is  full  of  these,  though  they  are  not 
apparent  to  every  eye.  The  poet  aids  us  in  dis 
cerning  them  with  the  vision  of  an  expert.  As 
the  geologist  finds  fossils  where  the  unscientific 
rambler  beholds  only  uncouth  rocks,  so  the  poet, 
with  an  eye  trained  to  the  quick  perception  of 
beauty,  is  ever  surprising  us  with  marvellous 
revelations.  Bryant  possesses  this  gift  in  a  rare 
degree.  His  sight  is  not  only  keen  and  penetrat 
ing,  but  he  causes  us  to  share  his  pleasure  by  the 
ready  indication  of  its  sources.  An  hour  with  him 
amid  the  scenes  of  Nature  is  like  an  hour  in  a  rich 
art-gallery  with  an  intelligent  and  enthusiastic 
artist.  There  is  in  him  nothing  of  the  frittering 
volubility  and  perfunctory  minuteness  of  the  pro 
fessional  cicerone.  He  points  out  the  beauties  of 
Nature  because  he  loves  them,  and  wants  others 
to  love  them  too.  Note  the  fine  tracing  of  resem 
blances  in  the  following  passage  from  "  A  Winter 
Piece:"  — 

"  Come  when  the  rains 

Have  glazed  the  snow  and  clothed  the  trees  with  ice, 
While  the  slant  sun  of  February  pours 
Into  the  bowers  a  flood  of  light.     Approach  ! 
The  incrusted  surface  shall  upbear  thy  steps, 
And  the  broad  arching  portals  of  the  grove 
Welcome  thy  entering.     Look !  the  massy  trunks 


THE  POET.  205 

Are  cased  in  the  pure  crystal :  each  light  spray, 

Nodding  and  tinkling  in  the  breath  of  heaven, 

Is  studded  with  its  trembling  water-drops, 

That  glimmer  with  an  amethystine  light : 

But  round  the  parent-stem  the  long  low  boughs 

Bend  in  a  glittering  ring ;  the  arbors  hide 

The  glassy  floor.     Oh  !  you  might  deem  the  spot 

The  spacious  cavern  of  some  virgin  mine 

Deep  in  the  womb  of  earth, — where  the  gems  grow, 

And  diamonds  put  forth  radiant  rods,  and  bud 

With  amethyst  and  topaz,  —  and  the  place 

Lit  up  most  royally  with  the  pure  beam 

That  dwells  in  them.     Or,  haply,  the  vast  hall 

Of  fairy  palace,  that  outlasts  the  night, 

And  fades  not  in  the  glory  of  the  sun  ; 

Where  crystal  columns  send  forth  slender  shafts 

And  crossing  arches  ;  and  fantastic  aisles 

Wind  from  the  sight  in  brightness,  and  are  lost 

Among  the  crowded  pillars.     Raise  thine  eye  : 

Thou  seest  no  cavern-roof,  no  palace-vault : 

There  the  blue  sky  and  the  white  drifting  cloud 

Look  in." 

Sometimes  his  fancy  quickens  inanimate  things 
into  life  by  an  implied  personification  that  awakens 
a  kind  of  sympathy  with  them,  as  in  these  stanzas 
from  "  The  Snow-Shower  :  " 

"  Here  delicate  snow-stars,  out  of  the  cloud, 

Come  floating  downward  in  airy  play, 
I^jke  spangles  dropped  from  the  glistening  crowd, 

That  whiten  by  night  the  Milky  Way ; 
There  broader  and  burlier  masses  fall : 
The  sullen  water  buries  them  all ; 
Flake  after  flake,  — 
All  drowned  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 


206        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

And  some,  as  on  tender  wings  they  glide 
From  their  chilly  birth-cloud  dim  and  gray, 

Are  joined  in  their  fall,  and,  side  by  side, 
Come  clinging  along  their  unsteady  way, 

As  friend  with  friend,  or  husband  with  wife, 

Makes  hand  in  hand  the  passage  of  life  : 
Each  mated  flake 

Soon  sinks  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 

Lo  !  while  we  are  gazing,  in  swifter  haste 
Stream  down  the  snows  till  the  air  is  white  : 

As  myriads  by  myriads  madly  chased, 

They  fling  themselves  from  their  shadowy  height. 

The  fair,  frail  creatures  of  middle  sky, 

What  speed  they  make,  with  their  grave  so  nigh,  — 
Flake  after  flake, 

To  lie  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake  I  " 

This  mode  of  treatment  occasionally  blends  the 
real  and  the  fanciful  in  such  ingenious  yet  natural 
ways  as  to  produce  the  emotion  of  pathos.  In 
"  The  Wind  and  the  Stream,"  for  example,  the 
personification  is  so  perfect,  that  we  almost  feel 
compassion  for  the  cheated  little  stream,  as  we 
would  for  an  innocent  and  simple  maiden.  The 
poem  cannot  be  appreciated  except  as  a  whole,  and 
so  is  given  entire :  — 

"  A  brook  came  stealing  from  the  ground  : 

You  scarcely  saw  itsjsilvery  gleam, 
Among  the  herbs  that  hung  around 

The  borders  of  the  winding  stream,  — 
The  pretty  stream,  the  placid  stream, 
The  softly-gliding,  bashful  stream. 


THE   POET.  207 

A  breeze  came  wandering  from  the  sky, 
Light  as  the  whispers  of  a  dream  : 

He  put  the  o'erhanging  grasses  by, 

And  softly  stooped  to  kiss  the  stream,  — 

The  pretty  stream,  the  flattered  stream, 

The  shy  yet  unreluctant  stream. 

The  water,  as  the  wind  passed  o'er, 
Shot  upward  many  a  glancing  beam, 

Dimpled  and  quivered  more  and  more, 
And  tripped  along,  a  livelier  stream,  — 

The  flattered  stream,  the  simpering  stream, 

The  fond,  delighted,  silly  stream. 

Away  the  airy  wanderer  flew 

To  where  the  fields  with  blossoms  teem, 

To  sparkling  springs,  and  rivers  blue, 
And  left  alone  that  little  stream,  — 

The  flattered  stream,  the  cheated  stream, 

The  sad,  forsaken,  lonely  stream. 

That  careless  wind  came  never  back  ; 

He  wanders  yet  the  fields,  I  deem  : 
But  on  its  melancholy  track 

Complaining  went  that  little  stream,  — 
The  cheated  stream,  the  hopeless  stream, 
The  ever-murmuring,  mourning  stream." 

3.  A  third  method  is  to  make  the  scenes  of 
Nature  the  theatre  of  action.  This  is  a  favorite 
method  with  Bryant ;  and  there  is  scarcely  a  poem, 
where  the  other  methods  are  not  employed,  in 
which  this  is  not  illustrated.  Hence  the  reading 
of  his  verse  skives  us  a  pleasure  akin  to  that  of  the 


208         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEX   BRYANT. 

ancient  Athenians,  when  they  assembled  in  their 
grand  open-air  theatre,  with  the  distant  mountains 
and  the  open  sea  for  scenery,  and  the  moving 
clouds  for  a  canopy.  Hence  the  expansive  effect 
of  Bryant's  poetry  upon  the  mind  of  the  reader. 
His  figures  never  stand  alone :  an  illimitable  land 
scape  lies  behind  them,  —  an  open  outlook  of  sea 
or  sky,  that  may,  indeed,  render  his  characters 
less  conspicuous,  but  that  leads  the  mind  to  some 
thing  greater  than  any  character,  and  imparts  to 
the  whole  a  peculiar  impressiveness.  If  he  sings 
of  the  men  of  "Seventy-Six,"  he  first  outlines 
with  a  bold  hand  the  hills  that  bred  them,  as  if  to 
indicate  the  natural  causes  of  their  valor :  — 

"  What  heroes  from  the  woodland  sprung, 
When  through  the  fresh-awakened  land 

The  thrilling  cry  of  freedom  rung, 

And  to  the  work  of  warfare  strung 
The  yeoman's  iron  hand  ! 

Hills  flung  the  cry  to  hills  around, 

And  ocean-mart  replied  to  mart, 
And  streams,  whose  springs  were  yet  unfound, 
Pealed  far  away  the  startling  sound 

Into  the  forest's  heart. 

Then  marched  the  brave  from  rocky  steep, 

From  mountain-river  swift  and  cold  : 
The  borders  of  the  stormy  deep, 
The  vales  where  gathered  waters  sleep, 
Sent  up  the  strong  and  bold, 


THE    POET.  209 

As  if  the  very  earth  again 

Grew  quick  from  God's  creating  breath; 
And  from  the  sods  of  grove  and  glen 
Rose  ranks  of  lion-hearted  men 

To  battle  to  the  death." 

If  lie  tells  a  story,  lie  chooses  Nature  for  his 
background,  and  the  best  part  of  the  whole  is 
descriptive.  Plot  is  of  little  account  with  him  : 
scenery  is  every  thing.  Take,  for  example,  "  An 
Indian  Story."  An  Indian's  bride  is  stolen  while 
he  is  hunting.  He  goes  in  pursuit  of  the  ravisher, 
kills  him,  and  brings  back  the  maiden.  The  cap 
ture  and  the  killing  are  not  narrated,  but  are  sug-. 
gested ;  while  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  are 
noted  with  minute  care  :  — 

"  'Twas  early  summer  when  Maquon's  bride 

Was  stolen  away  from  his  door  ; 
But  at  length  the  maples  in  crimson  are  dyed, 
And  the  grape  is  black  on  the  cabin-side, 
And  she  smiles  at  his  hearth  once  more. 

But  far  in  the  pine-grove  dark  and  cold, 

Where  the  yellow  leaf  falls  not, 
Nor  the  autumn  shines  in  scarlet  and  gold, 
There  lies  a  hillock  of  fresh  dark  mould 

In  the  deepest  gloom  of  the  spot. ' ' 

Most  poets,  if  called  upon  to  write  011  "  The 
Antiquity  of  Freedom,"  would  hardly  introduce  a 
natural  image,  and  would  be  almost  certain  not  to 
paint  a  natural  scene.  Observe  how  Bryant  ap 
proaches  his  theme :  — 


210        LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  Here  are  old  trees,  tall  oaks,  and  gnarled  pines, 
That  stream  with  gray-green  mosses  :  here  the  ground 
Was  never  trenched  by  spade,  and  flowers  spring  up 
Unsown,  and  die  ungathered.     It  is  sweet 
To  linger  here  among  the  flitting  birds, 
And  leaping  squirrels,  wandering  brooks,  and  winds 
That  shake  the  leaves,  and  scatter,  as  they  pass, 
A  fragrance  from  the  cedars,  thickly  set 
With  pale-blue  berries.     In  these  peaceful  shades, 
Peaceful,  unpruned,  immeasurably  old, 
My  thoughts  go  up  the  long  dim  path  of  years, 
Back  to  the  earliest  days  of  liberty." 

Then  rises  the  apparition  of  Freedom  before  his 
mind.  The  scene  shapes  the  writer's  conception 
of  him,  —  a  conception  as  the  scene  requires,  far 
different  from  the  traditional  Goddess  of  Liberty ; 
and  he  addresses  him  in  this  apostrophe,  a  passage 
unsurpassed  in  grandeur  by  any  twenty  lines  of 
English  verse :  — 

"  O  FREEDOM  I  thou  art  not,  as  poets  dream, 
A  fair  young  girl,  with  light  and  delicate  limbs, 
And  wavy  tresses  gushing  from  the  cap 
With  which  the  Roman  master  crowned  his  slave 
When  he  took  off  the  gyves.     A  bearded  man, 
Armed  to  the  teeth,  art  thou  :  one  mailed  hand 
Grasps  the  broad  shield,  and  one  the  sword ;  thy  brow, 
Glorious  in  beauty  though  it  be,  is  scarred 
With  tokens  of  old  wars ;  thy  massive  limbs 
Are  strong  with  struggling.     Power  at  thee  has  launched 
His  bolts,  and  with  his  lightnings  smitten  thee  : 
They  could  not  quench  the  life  thou  hast  from  heaven. 
Merciless  Power  has  dug  thy  dungeon  deep ; 


THE   POET.  211 

And  his  swart  armorers,  by  a  thousand  fires, 

Have  forged  thy  chain.    Yet,  while  he  deems  thee  bound, 

The  links  are  shivered,  and  the  prison-walls 

Fall  outward :  terribly  thou  springest  forth, 

As  springs  the  flame  above  a  burning  pile, 

And  shoutest  to  the  nations,  who  return 

Thy  shouting,  while  the  pale  oppressor  flies." 

Nor  does  the  sublime  presence  which  the  poet's 
imagination  has  placed  in  this  rural  scene  divert 
his  mind  from  the  natural  surroundings  in  which 
the  great  conception  seems  to  have  had  its  birth. 
Freedom,  whose  enemy  never  sleeps,  must  not  close 
his  lids  in  slumber;  but  he  continues  in  his  ad 
dress  :  — 

"  Wouldst  thou  rest 

Awhile  from  tumult  and  the  frauds  of  men, 
These  old  and  friendly  solitudes  invite 
Thy  visit.     They,  while  yet  the  forest-trees 
Were  young  upon  the  unviolated  earth, 
And  yet  the  moss-stains  on  the  rock  were  new, 
Beheld  thy  glorious  childhood,  and  rejoiced." 

4.  A  fourth  treatment  of  Nature  is  to  point  out 
her  ministration  to  the  wants  and  pleasures  of  man. 
The  benefactions  of  Nature  seem  to  invest  her 
with  a  higher  attribute  than  any  quality  of  mate 
rial  loveliness,  —  a  moral  virtue  that  wins  our 
admiration,  and  claims  our  affection.  The  an 
cients  conceived  of  the  Earth  as  a  great  mother 
nourishing  her  offspring  with  maternal  tenderness, 
and  worshipped  her  with  special  honors  as  Deme- 


212         LIFE  OF  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BEYANT. 

ter  or  Ceres.  The  myth  still  lingers  in  the  meta 
phor  "Mother  Earth;  "  and  the  worship,  rational 
ized  and  purified  by  a  better  faith,  still  breathes  in 
the  best  poetry  of  modern  times.  Whatever  may 
be  their  theories  of  Nature,  all  men  confess  that 
she  is  kind  and  generous.  Her  beneficence  rises 
above  mere  utilitarian  ends,  and  scatters  the  path 
way  of  life  with  delight  for  every  sense.  Bryant 
is  fond  of  acknowledging  these  ministries  of  Na 
ture.  They  are  accompanied  by  various  gradations 
of  feeling.  Sometimes  there  is  a  pensive  sadness 
at  the  withdrawal  of  Nature's  smile,  as  in  these 
stanzas  of  "  Autumn  Woods :  "  — 

"  O  Autumn  !  why  so  soon 
Depart  the  hues  that  make  thy  forests  glad, 
Thy  gentle  wind,  and  thy  fair  sunny  noon, 
And  leave  thee  wild  and  sad  ? 

Ah !  'twere  a  lot  too  blest 
Forever  in  thy  colored  shades  to  stray; 
Amid  the  kisses  of  the  soft  south-west 

To  roam  and  dream  for  aye ; 

And  leave  the  vain  low  strife 

That  makes  men  mad,  the  tug  for  wealth  and  power, 
The  passions  and  the  cares  that  wither  life, 

And  waste  its  little  hour." 

Sometimes  there  is  merely  a  passing  recognition 
of  the  pleasures  afforded  by  natural  objects,  with  a 
delicate  implication  that  they  exist  for  the  refresh 
ment  of  man,  as  in  the  lines  on  "May  Evening: "  — 


THE  POET.  213 

"  The  breath  of  spring-time  at  this  twilight  hour 

Comes  through  the  gathering  glooms, 
And  bears  the  stolen  sweets  of  many  a.  flower 
Into  my  silent  rooms. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered,  gentle  gale,  to  find 

The  perfumes  thou  dost  bring? 
By  brooks  that  through  the  wakening  meadows  wind, 

Or  brink  of  rushy  spring  ?  " 

Sometimes  there  is  a  reference  to  Nature  as  the 
source  of  joyous  emotions  and  lofty  inspirations, 
as  in  the  following  stanzas  :  — 

"And  deep  were  my  musings  in  life's  early  blossom, 

'Mid  the  twilight  of  mountain-groves  wandering  long  : 
How  thrilled  my  young  veins,  and  how  throbbed  my  full 

bosom, 
When  o'er  me  descended  the  spirit  of  song ! 

'Mong  the  deep-cloven  fells  that  for  ages  had  listened 
To  the  rush  of  the  pebble-paved  river  between, 

Where  the  kingfisher  screamed,  and  gray  precipice  glistened, 
All  breathless  with  awe  have  I  gazed  on  the  scene, 

Till  I  felt  the  dark  power  o'er  my  reveries  stealing 
From  the  gloom  of  the  thicket  that  over  me  hung, 

And  the  thoughts  that  awoke  in  that  rapture  of  feeling 
Were  formed  into  verse  as  they  rose  to  my  tongue." 

5.  A  fifth  mode  of  treating  Nature,  and  the  last 
we  shall  notice,  is  to  interpret  the  hidden  meaning 
of  material  symbolism.  To  Bryant,  external  Na 
ture  seemed 

"  An  emanation  of  the  indwelling  Life, 
A  visible  token  of  the  upholding  Love, 
That  are  the  soul  of  this  great  universe." 


214        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN  BKYANT. 

Behind  all  phenomena  he  saw  the  spiritual  forces 
that  shaped  them,  and  beneath  every  form  of  love 
liness  he  perceived  the  sustaining  framework  of  a 
moral  purpose.  He  loved  the  natural  world ;  but 
he  worshipped  its  Author.  Nature  seemed  to  him 
not  only  a  benefactor,  but  a  teacher;  and  not  a 
teacher  of  philosophy  merely,  but  also  of  divinity. 

He  has  been  charged  with  pantheistic  material- 
*  ism ;  and,  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  "  Thanatop- 
sis,"  the  charge  seems  to  be  well  founded.  In  this 
poem  there  is  no  mention  of  Deity,  but  a  cold  in 
sensate  Nature  confronts  us  everywhere  :  the  soul 
is  not  so  much  as  named,  but  in  death  each  human 
trace  is  surrendered  up.  A  resurrection  is  impos 
sible  ;  for  man  goes  to  mix  "  forever  "  with  the  ele 
ments.  There  is  no  solace  offered  for  a  dying  hour, 
beyond  the  magnificence  of  the  couch,  the  good 
company  of  ancient  skeletons,  and  the  assurance 
that  all  shall  come  to  the  same  resting-place. 
There  is  no  preparation  commended,  except  to 
live  in  such  a  manner  as  finally  to  lie  down  with 
composure  in  the  "  last  sleep."  This  is  truly  a 
Pagan  poem ;  and  no  one  can  read  it,  remembering 
the  possibilities  of  a  Christian  poem  on  the  same 
theme,  without  feeling  that  it  is.  There  are  lacking 
in  it  even  the  best  sentiments  of  Paganism.  There 
is  no  distinction  between  the  good  and  the  bad. 
It  is  without  deity,  soul,  immortality,  or  conscience. 
The  last  paragraph  of  the  poem  was  added  after  the 


V 


THE  POET.  215 

original  draught  was  published,  and  is  an  obvious 
attempt  to  modify  its  sentiment.  The  conclusion 
is  forced  and  unnatural,  although  even  this  is  Pa 
gan.  There  is  no  ground  given  for  being  "sus 
tained  and  soothed  by  an  unfaltering  trust;"  for 
the  poet  has  taken  pains  to  assure  us  that  there 
are  no  "  pleasant  dreams  "  in  store.  We  are  to  be 
"  a  brother  to  the  insensible  rock,  and  to  the  slug 
gish  clod ;  "  we  are  to  "  surrender  up  our  individ 
ual  being ;  "  we  are  "  to  mix  forever  with  the  ele 
ments."  Consciousness,  individuality,  and  spirit 
ual  existence,  beyond  the  grave,  are  by  implication 
denied.  Where  in  all  this  do  we  find  a  rational 
support  for  "  an  unfaltering  trust "  ?  or  what  pros 
pect  is  there  of  "pleasant  dreams  "  ?  The  stately 
music  and  solemn  imagery  of  the  majestic  blank- 
verse  are  like  a  cathedral  service,  in  which  storied 
windows  and  organ-tones  combine  to  impress  the 
mind  with  funereal  awe,  without  uplifting  or  con 
soling  it. 

There  can  be  little  doubt,  that,  when  Bryant 
wrote  this  poem,  he  contemplated  death,  for  the 
moment,  from  a  Pagan  point  of  view.  He  laid  the 
poem  aside  :  it  was  discovered  by  his  father,  ad 
mired,  and  published.  But  it  did  not  accord  with 
Bryant's  real  views  on  the  subject.  This  is  evi 
dent  from  the  added  paragraph,  in  which  he  strove 
to  divest  the  poem  of  some  of  its  harshness.  The 
introduction  of  the  word  "  spirit,"  in  the  tenth 


216         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

line  of  the  part  prefixed  to  the  original  poem, 
does  not  much  relieve  the  matter;  for  it  is  here 
used,  as  it  often  is  by  materialists,  as  a  synonyme 
of  consciousness.  It  was  impossible  for  Bryant  to 
express  his  true  views  in  this  poem  without  mar 
ring  its  consistency;  but  turn  to  the  lines  enti 
tled  "  Blessed  are  They  that  Mourn,"  and  see  how 
Christian  faith  lifts  the  veil  from  the  future :  — 

"  For  God  hath  marked  each  sorrowing  day, 

And  numbered  every  secret  tear ; 
And  heaven's  long  age  of  bliss  shall  pay 
For  all  his  children  suffer  here." 

Read  in  the  verses,  "  No  Man  knoweth  his  Sep 
ulchre,"  how, 

"  Whene'er  the  good  and  just 
Close  the  dim  eye  on  life  and  pain, 
Heaven  watches  o'er  their  sleeping  dust 
Till  the  pure  spirit  comes  again." 

See,  in  the  "  Hymn  to  Death,"  how  he  finds  the 
stern  monarch  a  liberator  of  the  good,  and  an  exe 
cutioner  of  the  base  ;  and  with  what  well-founded 
trust  he  exclaims  in  his  apostrophe  to  his  departed 

father,  — 

"  Rest,  therefore,  thou 

Whose  early  guidance  trained  my  infant  steps,* — 
Rest  in  the  bosom  of  God  till  the  brief  sleep 
Of  death  is  over,  and  a  happier  life 
Shall  dawn  to  waken  thine  insensible  dust." 

These  were  the  sentiments  of  his  young  man- 


THE  POET.  217 

hood,  and  time  only  rendered  them  more  precious 
to  him.  Bryant  saw,  as  every  great  poet  sees,  that 
true  poetry  cannot  grow  in  the  flinty  soil  of  mate- 
rialisin.  Spirit,  conscience,  deity,  and  immortality 
are  as  necessary  to  its  life  as  air  and  water  to  the 
tender  plant.  Strike  from  the  poetry  of  any  litera 
ture  its  ethical  and  supernatural  conceptions,  and 
there  remains  only  a  mass  of  rubbish,  a  chaos  which 
mere  intellect  cannot  transform  into-  a  cosmos. 

We  have  said  that  Bryant  viewed  the  material 
world  as  symbolical  of  the  spiritual.  The  flight 
of  the  waterfowl,  for  example,  teaches  him  a  lesson 
of  trustfulness  in  the  divine  superintendence  of 
human  life :  — 

"  He  who  from  zone  to  zone 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone 
Will  lead  my  steps  aright." 

The  calm  beauty  of  the  earth  after  the  passing 
of  the  tempest  suggests  that  tranquillity  that  time 
promises  to  bring  to  the  storm-beaten  life  of  man :  — 

"I  looked,  and  thought  the  quiet  of  the  scene 
An  emblem  of  the  peace  that  yet  shall  be  ; 
When  o'er  earth's  continents,  and  isles  between, 
The  noise  of  war  shall  cease  from  sea  to  sea, 
And  married  nations  dwell  in  harmony ; 
When  millions,  crouching  in  the  dust  to  one, 
No  more  shall  beg  their  lives  on  bended  knee, 
Nor  the  black  stake  be  dressed,  nor  in  the  sun 
The  o'erlabored  captive  toil,  and  wish  his  life  were  done." 


218        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN   BBYANT. 

The  west  wind,  breathing  its  sighs  through  the 
dark  pines  of  the  forest,  seems  to  him  a  type  of 
human  repining ;  and  he  exclaims,  — 

"  Ah  !  thou  art  like  our  wayward  race  : 

When  not  a  shade  of  pain  or  ill 
Dims  the  bright  smile  of  Nature's  face, 
Thou  lov'st  to  sigh  and  murmur  still." 

In  his  last  poem,  "  Our  Fellow-Worshippers," 
he  hears  in  Nature  a  "universal  symphony  of 
praise,"  as  if  creation  existed  only  to  glorify  its 
Author :  — 

"  The  blossomed  apple-tree, 
Among  its  flowery  tufts,  on  every  spray, 

Offers  the  wandering  bee 
A  fragrant  chapel  for  his  matin-lay ; 

And  a  soft  bass  is  heard 
From  the  quick  pinions  of  the  humming-bird. 

Haply  —  for  who  can  tell  ?  — 
Aerial  beings  from  the  world  unseen, 

Haunting  the  sunny  dell, 
Or  slowly  floating  o'er  the  flowery  green, 

May  join  our  worship  here 
With  harmonies  too  fine  for  mortal  ear." 

Though  Bryant's  peculiar  sphere  is  that  of  inter 
preting  Nature,  he  has  not  always  confined  him- 
v    /self  to  the  treatment  of  natural  themes.     He  has 
occasionally   displayed   unusual    power   in    other 


THE   POET.  219 

kinds  of  poetical  composition.  His  Indian  poems 
constitute  a  class  by  themselves,  but  vary  widely 
in  excellence.  "  The  Indian  at  the  Burial-place 
of  his  Fathers "  is  singularly  cold  and  artificial. 
It  is  hardly  in  keeping  with  savage  ferocity  and 
fire  to  make  the  Indian  say,  as  he  surveys  the 
land  of  his  fathers  in  the  possession  of  the  hated 
pale-face,  — 

"  But  I  behold  a  fearful  sign, 

To  which  the  white  men's  eyes  are  blind : 
Their  race  may  vanish  hence,  like  mine, 

And  leave  no  trace  behind, 
Save  ruins  o'er  the  region  spread, 
And  the  white  stones  above  the  dead." 

The  wronged  red  man  would  not  find  much  con 
solation  in  the  reflection,  — 

"  The  realm  our  tribes  are  crushed  to  get 
May  be  a  barren  desert  yet." 

"  The  Indian  Girl's  Lament "  opens  finely,  but 
almost  at  once  falls  off  into  meditations  too  reflec 
tive  for  a  simple  forest  maiden's  song  ;  though  the 
concluding  stanzas  are  very  beautiful.  "  A  Song 
of  Pitcairn's  Island  "  is  perfect  in  its  melody  and 
simplicity,  its  sweet  spontaneous  music  of  the 
heart.  The  tragic  story  of  "  Monument  Moun 
tain  "  is  not  surpassed  in  grace  of  diction  or 
touching  pathos. 


220         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BKYANT. 

In  a  few  poems  Bryant  has  attempted  to  write 
in  a  humorous  vein.  There  seems  to  be  some  dif 
ference  of  opinion  among  competent  critics  as  to 
his  success.  Mr.  E.  P.  Whipple  says,  "  Surely  the 
little  poem  of  4  The  Mosquito  '  indicates  a  vein  of 
sentiment,  delicate,  playful,  and  genial,  that  might 
have  been  developed  into  many  a  piece  of  exquisite 
poetical  wit  and  gracefully  fanciful  humor,  which 
would  have  relieved  the  sad,  sweet,  earnest  tone 
of  his  ordinary  meditations."  Mr.  R.  H.  Stoddard, 
speaking  of  the  lines  "  To  a  Mosquito,"  "  A  Medi 
tation  on  Rhode-Island  Coal,"  and  "Spring  in 
Town,"  expresses  the  opinion  that  "  the  humor  of 
these  elaborate  trifles  is  very  thin,  and  the  imagi 
nation  expended  on  them  utterly  wasted."  He 
adds,  that  "  Bryant  had  a  strong  sense  of  humor ; 
but  it  found  no  vent  in  his  verse."  The  poet  him 
self  seems  to  have  held  his  powers  as  a  humorist 
in  low  estimation  ;  for  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life 
he  wrote  nothing  of  a  humorous  character,  except 
the  sprightly  lines  "Robert  of  Lincoln,"  which 
Mr.  E.  C.  Stedman  justly  describes  as  "  full  of 
bird-music  and  fancy." 

Twice  in  his  old  age  Bryant  gave  free  wing  to 
iis  imagination,  and  wrote  two  charming  fairy- 
poems,— "  Sella,"  and  "  The  Little  People  of  the 
Snow."  Though  they  are  the  longest  of  his  poet 
ical  compositions,  either  can  be  read  at  one  sitting, 
conformably  to  his  theory  that  a  poem  must  be 


THE   POET.  221 

brief.  In  both  the  plot  is  slender ;  but  the  interest 
is  well  sustained.  It  is  for  the  details,  rather  than 
for  the  general  conception,  that  these  poems  com 
mand  our  admiration.  Light  and  airy  as  they  are, 
they  produce  the  effect  of  reality  upon  the  mind 
at  moments  during  their  perusal.  Sella's  magical 
slippers  transport  her  to  the  abysses  of  the  ocean ; 
but  her  description  of  what  she  sees  there  almost 
causes  us  to  forget  the  fairy  character  of  the  nar 
rative  in  the  contemplation  of  the  secrets  of  the 
deep :  — 

"  And  then  we  wandered  off  amid  the  groves 
Of  coral,  loftier  than  the  growths  of  earth  : 
The  mightiest  cedar  lifts  no  trunk  like  theirs, 
So  huge,  so  high  toward  heaven,  nor  overhangs 
Alleys  and  bowers  so  dim.     We  moved  between 
Pinnacles  of  black  rock,  which,  from  beneath 
Molten  by  inner  fires,  —  so  said  my  guide,  — 
Gushed  long  ago  into  the  hissing  brine, 
That  quenched  and  hardened  them ;  and  now  they  stand 
Motionless  in  the  currents  of  the  sea 
That  part  and  flow  around  them.     As  we  went, 
We  looked  into  the  hollows  of  the  abyss 
To  which  the  never-resting  waters  sweep 
The  skeletons  of  sharks,  the  long  white  spines 
Of  narwhal  and  of  dolphin,  bones  of  men 
Shipwrecked,  and  mighty  ribs  of  foundered  barks. 
Down  the  blue  pits  we  looked,  and  hastened  on. 

But  beautiful  the  fountains  of  the  sea 
Sprang  upward  from  its  bed  :  the  silvery  jets 
Shot  branching  far  into  the  azure  brine  ; 


222         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

And,  where  they  mingled  with  it,  the  great  deep 
Quivered  and  shook  as  shakes  the  glimmering  air 
Above  a  furnace.     So  we  wandered  through 
The  mighty  world  of  waters,  till  at  length 
I  wearied  of  its  wonders,  and  my  heart 
Began  to  yearn  for  my  dear  mountain-home. 
I  prayed  my  gentle  guide  to  lead  me  back 
To  the  upper  air.     *  A  glorious  realm/  I  said, 
*  Is  this  thou  openest  to  me  ;  but  I  stray 
Bewildered  in  its  vastness  :  these  strange  sights 
And  this  strange  light  oppress  me.     I  must  see 
The  faces  that  I  love,  or  I  shall  die." 

In  "The  Little  People  of  the  Snow,"  Eva,  a 
child  of  the  Caucasus,  is  enticed  by  a  fairy  maiden 
to  wander  over  the  glistening  snows  to  the  frost- 
palace,  where  the  little  people  are  engaged  in  their 
festivities.  She  cannot  enter;  but,  as  she  looks 
through  the  window  of  pellucid  ice,  she  beholds 
this  scene  :  — 

"  And  in  that  hall  a  joyous  multitude 
Of  these  by  whom  its  glistening  walls  were  reared 
Whirled  in  a  merry  dance  to  silvery  sounds, 
That  rang  from  cymbals  of  transparent  ice, 
And  ice-cups,  quivering  to  the  skilful  touch 
Of  little  fingers.     Round  and  round  they  flew, 
As  when  in  spring,  about  a  chimney-top, 
A  cloud  of  twittering  swallows,  just  returned, 
Wheel  round  and  round,  and  turn  and  wheel  again, 
Unwinding  their  swift  track.     So  rapidly 
Flowed  the  meandering  stream  of  that  fair  dance 
Beneath  that  dome  of  light.     Bright  eyes  that  looked 


THE   POET.  223 

From  under  lily-brows,  and  gauzy  scarfs 
Sparkling  like  snow-wreaths  in  the  early  sun, 
Shot  by  the  window  in  their  mazy  whirl." 

The  perfection  of  the  illusion  is  not  felt  until 
we  find  our  interest  turned  to  pathos,  as  the  child, 
chilled  by  her  exposure,  sinks  on.  the  snow-drift, 

and 

"  The  hues  of  life 

Fade  from  the  fair  smooth  brow  and  rounded  cheek 
As  fades  the  crimson  from  a  morning  cloud." 

Nor  does  it  seem  unnatural,  that,  when  the 
mourning  cottagers  have  dug  a  little  grave  for  her 
beneath  the  snow, 

"  A  thousand  slender  voices  round, 
Like  echoes  softly  flung  from  rock  and  hill, 
Took  up  the  strain,  and  all  the  hollow  air 
Seemed  mourning  for  the  dead  ;  for  on  that  day 
The  Little  People  of  the  Snow  had  come 
From  mountain-peak  and  cloud  and  icy  hall 
To  Eva's  burial." 

Though  he  has  seldom  attempted  the  expression 
of  mere  sentiment,  Bryant  has  left  enough  speci 
mens  to  show  what  he  might  have  done  in  this 
department  of  poetry.  "The  Land  of  Dreams" 
is  as  beautiful  as  the  fairest  image  of  that  mighty: 
realm  of  shadows.  "The  Burial  of  Love"  is' 
hardly  equalled,  certainly  not  surpassed,  by  any 
composition  of  its  kind  written  by  an  American. 


224        LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  The  May  Sun  sheds  an  Amber  Light "  is  a 
touching  expression  of  sorrow  for  the  dead. 

It  is  a  little  remarkable  that  the  great  civil  con 
test  in  which  the  poet  felt  so  keen  an  interest 
should  not  have  evoked  more  martial  music  from 
his  lyre.  Though  his  war-lyrics  are  few  in  num 
ber,  they  are  among  his  noblest  efforts.  "Not 
Yet,"  and  "  Our  Country's  Call,"  possess  both  fire 
and  strength,  and  are  worthy  of  a  place  beside  the 
battle-songs  of  any  nation. 

Bryant  was  a  close  student  of  the  poetical  liter 
atures  of  other  languages  than  the  English,  and 
has  given  evidence  of  this  in  a  score  of  transla 
tions  from  the  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Provencal, 
French,  and  German.  So  far  as  they  have  been 
compared  with  the  originals,  they  are  certainly 
equal  to  them  in  compactness,  force  of  sentiment, 
and  beauty  of  diction.  The  translations  from  the 
Spanish  are  probably  the  best,  and  are  fine  imi 
tations  of  the  stately  movement  of  that  language. 

The  translation  of  the  Homeric  poems,  how 
ever,  most  taxed  and  best  displayed  his  powers  as 
a  translator.  When  he  undertook  this  herculean 
task,  he  entered  an  arena  where  many  had  fallen, 
and  none  had  won  undisputed  laurels.  Some  of 
the  most  celebrated  poets  of  England,  and  several 
of  her  finest  scholars,  had  failed  to  produce  a 
translation  wholly  satisfactory  to  the  critical 
world.  Considering  his  advanced  age  when  the 


THE   POET.  225 

task  was  attempted,  the  undertaking  seems  almost 
heroic. 

Scholars  are  far  from  agreement  as  to  what  is  to 
be  aimed  at  in  a  translation  of  Homer.  Some 
maintain  that  the  English  form  of  the  poem  must 
affect  us  who  read  it  as  the  Greek  affected  the 
Greeks:  others  contend  that  this  is  impossible, 
and  the  aim  should  be  to  affect  the  best  Homeric 
scholars  of  the  present  as  the  original  poems 
affect  them.  Some  advocate  the  closest  possible 
imitation  of  the  ancient  forms, — verse,  metre,  and 
diction :  others  with  equal  zeal  prefer  a  para 
phrase  of  the  substance  into  such  English  forms 
as  suit  the  genius  of  our  times  and  language, 
and  produce  a  poem  that  shall  seem  like  an  origi 
nal  and  native  composition.  Bryant  thus  states 
his  own  purpose :  "  I  have  endeavored  to  be 
strictly  faithful  in  my  rendering ;  to  add  nothing 
of  my  own ;  and  to  give  the  reader,  so  far  as  our 
language  would  allow,  all  that  I  found  in  the 
original."  This,  if  closely  examined,  does  not 
appear  to  be  a  very  definite  theory  of  translation; 
for  it  is  a  question,  —  indeed,  the  question  at  issue 
among  the  translators,  —  in  what  faithfulness  con 
sists.  Bryant  seems  to  have  meant  by  it  fidelity 
to  the  spirit  and  verbal  forms  of  the  original ;  but 
he  did  not  include  conformity  to  the  versification. 
He  would  doubtless  have  chosen  hexameters,  had 
he  not  regarded  them  an  imperfect  metrical  form 


226        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

in  English,  and  especially  unsuited  to  the  render 
ing  of  the  Greek,  on  account  of  the  greater  com 
pactness  of  the  English  equivalents.  He  found 
blank  verse  "  best  suited  to  a  narrative  poem  by 
its  flexibility  of  construction,"  and  adapted  "  to 
avoid  in  a  greater  degree  the  appearance  of  con 
straint  which  is  too  apt  to  belong  to  a  transla 
tion."  Without  question,  he  chose  what  for  him 
was  the  best  form  of  verse ;  but  it  may  be  doubt 
ed  whether  we  can  ever  have  a  perfect  English 
Homer  until  the  hexameter  verse  is  so  developed 
and  improved  in  the  hands  of  some  master-poet, 
that  we  may  read  Homer  in  faultless  English 
hexameters.  At  present  this  seems  impossible, 
and  we  must  accept  the  blank  verse  as  the  best 
attained  expression  of  the  Homeric  spirit. 

In  his  elaborate  discussion  of  the  problem  of 
Homeric  translation,  Matthew  Arnold  mentions 
four  qualities  of  Homer  which  he  claims  a  trans 
lator  should  aim  to  reproduce.  He  should  remem 
ber  of  Homer,  "  (1)  that  he  is  eminently  rapid ; 

(2)  that  he  is  eminently  plain  and  direct,  both  in 
the  evolution  of  his  thought  and  in  the  expression 
of  it,  —  that  is,  both  in  his  syntax  and  in  his  words ; 

(3)  that  he  is  eminently  plain  and  direct  in  the 
substance  of  his  thought,  —  that  is,  in  his  matter 
and  ideas ;    and,  finally,  (4)  that  he  is  eminently 
noble."     In  judging  the  chief  English  translators, 
he   adds,    "  For   want   of  duly  penetrating  them- 


THE  POET.  227 

selves  with  the  first-named  quality  of  Homer,  —  his 
rapidity,  —  Cowper  and  Mr.  Wright  have  failed  in 
rendering  him ;  that,  for  want  of  duly  appreciat 
ing  the  second-named  quality,  —  his  plainness  and 
directness  of  style  and  diction,  —  Pope  and  Mr. 
Sotheby  have  failed  in  rendering  him;  that,  for 
want  of  appreciating  the  third,  —  his  plainness 
and  directness  of  ideas,  —  Chapman  has  failed  in 
rendering  him;  while,  for  want  of  appreciating 
the  fourth,  —  his  nobleness,  —  Mr.  Newman,  who 
has  clearly  seen  some  of  the  faults  of  his  predeces 
sors,  has  yet  failed  more  conspicuously  than  any 
of  them."  l 

Bryant  seems  to  have  apprehended  and  endeav 
ored  to  realize  all  four  of  these  qualities ;  and  cer 
tainly  he  has  succeeded  in  combining  more  of 
them  than  any  previous  translator.  If  he  fails 
anywhere,  it  is  in  reproducing  the  first,  —  rapidity 
of  movement.  Mr.  Stedman  thinks  blank  verse 
"must  lack  the  Homeric  rush  and  swiftness,  and 
must  also  become  prosaic  in  its  substitutes  for  the 
recurrent  and  connecting  phrases  of  the  Greek 
text."  He  thinks,  too,  that  "the  tendency  of 
Bryant's  mind,  even  in  its  epic  mood,  was  slow 
and  stately,  —  Latin  rather  than  Greek."  It  de 
serves  in  fairness  to  be  said  that  any  form  of  Eng 
lish  verse  is  likely  to  fail  of  representing  the  dart 
ing  quality  of  the  Greek.  The  observation  on  the 

i  Essays  in  Criticism,  p.  291. 


228         LITE   OF   WILLIAM   CULLEX   BRYANT. 

Latin  character  of  Bryant's  mind  is  not  only  just, 
but  important.  It  is  this  that  has  enabled  him  to 
sustain  the  Homeric  "  nobleness "  in  a  manner 
that  has  not  been  surpassed.  He  is  everywhere 
plain  and  direct,  both  in  figures  and  diction.  In 
this  respect  he  is  Homeric  even  in  his  own  poems. 
The  severest  test  of  the  quality  of  "  nobleness  " 
of  which  Mr.  Arnold  speaks  is  naturally  found  in 
the  speeches  of  the  deities,  and  especially  in  those 
of  the  great  Earth-shaker,  the  imperial  Zeus  him 
self.  Bryant  reproduces  the  simplicity  of  Homer, 
trusting  to  the  weight  of  the  ideas  rather  than 
to  verbal  ponderosity  to  give  dignity  to  these 
speeches.  The  following  example  occurs  at  the 
beginning  of  the  eighth  book  of  "  The  Iliad :  "  — 

"  Now  Morn  in  saffron  robes  had  shed  her  light 
O'er  all  the  earth,  when  Jove  the  Thunderer 
Summoned  the  gods  to  council  on  the  heights 
Of  many-peaked  Olympus.     He  addressed 
The  assembly,  and  all  listened  as  he  spake :  — 
1  Hear,  all  ye  gods  and  all  ye  goddesses  ! 
While  I  declare  the  thought  within  my  breast, 
Let  none  of  either  sex  presume  to  break 
The  law  I  give,  but  cheerfully  obey, 
That  my  design  may  sooner  be  fulfilled. 
Whoever,  stealing  from  the  rest,  shall  seek 
To  aid  the  Grecian  cause,  or  that  of  Troy, 
Back  to  Olympus  scourged  and  in  disgrace 
Shall  he  be  brought ;  or  I  will  seize  and  hurl 
The  offender  down  to  rayless  Tartarus, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  great  gulf  below  the  earth, 


THE   POET.  229 

With  iron  gates  and  threshold  forged  of  brass, 

As  far  beneath  the  shades  as  earth  from  heaven. 

Then  shall  he  learn  how  greatly  I  surpass 

All  other  gods  in  power.     Try,  if  ye  will, 

Ye  gods,  that  all  may  know :  suspend  from  heaven 

A  golden  chain;  let  all  the  immortal  host 

Cling  to  it  from  below :  ye  could  not  draw, 

Strive  as  ye  might,  the  all-disposing  Jove 

From  heaven  to  earth.     And  yet,  if  I  should  choose 

To  draw  it  upward  to  me,  I  should  lift, 

With  it  and  you,  the  earth  itself  and  sea 

Together ;  and  I  then  would  bind  the  chain 

Around  the  summit  of  the  Olympian  mount, 

And  they  should  hang  aloft,  so  far  my  power 

Surpasses  all  the  power  of  gods  and  men.'  " 

If  there  be  any  lack  of  "  nobleness  "  here,  it  is 
Homer's  fault,  and  belongs  to  his  conception  of  the 
king  of  heaven.  But  read  Pope's  rendering  of 
the  same  passage,  and  notice  how  he  strives  to  add 
dignity  to  it  by  the  use  of  sounding  epithets :  — 

"  Aurora  now,  fair  daughter  of  the  dawn, 
Sprinkled  with  rosy  light  the  dewy  lawn ; 
When  Jove  convened  the  senate  of  the  skies, 
Where  high  Olympus'  cloudy  tops  arise. 
The  sire  of  gods  his  awful  silence  broke ; 
The  heavens  attentive  trembled  as  he  spoke  :  — 
4  Celestial  states,  immortal  gods  !  give  ear ; 
Hear  our  decree,  and  reverence  what  ye  hear. 
The  fixed  decree,  which  not  all  heaven  can  move,  — 
Thou,  Fate,  fulfil  it !  and,  ye  powers,  approve !  — 
What  god  but  enters  yon  forbidden  field, 
Who  yields  assistance,  or  but  wills  to  yield, 


230         LIFE   OF    WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

Back  to  the  skies  with  shame  he  shall  be  driven, 

Gashed  with  dishonest  wounds,  the  scorn  of  heaven ; 

Or  far,  oh  !  far  from  steep  Olympus  thrown, 

Low  in  the  dark  Tartarean  gulf  shall  groan, 

With  burning  chains  fixed  to  the  brazen  floors, 

And  locked  by  hell's  inexorable  doors, 

As  deep  beneath  the  infernal  centre  hurled 

As  from  that  centre  to  the  ethereal  world. 

Let  him  who  tempts  me  dread  those  dire  abodes, 

And  know  the  Almighty  is  the  God  of  gods. 

League  all  your  forces,  then,  ye  powers  above, 

Join  all,  and  try  the  omnipotence  of  Jove. 

Let  down  our  golden  everlasting  chain, 

Whose  strong  embrace  holds  heaven  and  earth  and  main  ; 

Strive  all,  of  mortal  and  immortal  birth, 

To  drag,  by  this,  the  Thunderer  down  to  earth : 

Ye  strive  in  vain  !     If  I  but  stretch  this  hand, 

I  heave  the  gods,  the  ocean,  and  the  land ; 

I  fix  the  chain  to  great  Olympus'  height, 

And  the  vast  world  hangs  trembling  in  my  sight ! 

For  such  I  reign,  unbounded  and  above; 

And  such  are  men  and  gods,  compared  to  Jove.'  " 

There  is  prettiness  in  the  expressions,  "  sprinkled 
with  rosy  light  the  dewy  lawn,"  and  "  the  senate 
of  the  skies  ;  "  but  they  are  not  Homeric.  Pope's 
Jupiter  talks  like  Cicero,  but  not  like  a  god.  Bry 
ant  is  not  guilty  of  the  anachronism  involved  in 
the  use  of  the  word  "  hell."  His  "  rayless  Tarta 
rus  "  does  not  describe  a  place  by  an  epithet  de 
rived  from  its  proper  name,  as  Pope  does  in  "  the 
dark  Tartarean  gulf."  Bryant's  "deep,  deep  in 
the  great  gulf,"  is  immeasurably  superior  to  Pope's 


THE   POET.  231 

puerile  "  Or  far,  oh !  far,"  that  reminds  us  of  Thom 
son's  "O  Sophonisba!  Sophonisba  O!"  at  which 
the  wag  in  the  gallery  bawled  out,  "  O  Jamie 
Thomson !  Jamie  Thomson  O ! "  Bryant  does 
not  entangle  the  universe  in  a  golden  chain  in 
order  to  make  a  rhyme,  as  Pope  does  when  he 
says  that  its  "strong  embrace  holds  heaven  and 
earth  and  main." 

As,  in  taking  leave  of  our  poet,  we  look  with  a 
broader  sweep  of  vision  over  his  works,  numerous 
fertile  topics  suggests  themselves.  The  purity  of 
his  vocabulary,  limited  rigidly  to  an  exceedingly 
narrow  range ;  his  rhythmical  accuracy,  almos 
faultless  in  its  conformity  to  the  best  standards ; 
his  power  of  thought,  far-reaching  in  its  penetra 
tion;  his  fulness  of  matter,  so  marked  as  some 
times  even  to  overburden  his  expression,  —  are 
themes  well  worthy  of  detailed  examination :  but 
this  chapter  has  been  already  too  much  extended. 
There  is  one  thing,  however,  that  no  careful  reader 
of  Bryant  can  overlook,  —  his  profound  interest  in 
the  destiny  of  man.  "  4  The  still,  sad  music  of  hu 
manity,'  "  says  Mr.  Stoddard,  "  was  ever  sounding 
in  his  ears,  moaning  like  the  wind  of  the  forest. 
To  his  eyes  humanity  was  an  endless  procession, 
moving  along  the  earth,  in  sunshine  and  shadow, 
out  of  the  darkness  of  birth  into  the  night  of 
death.  They  repose  and  they  suffer,  these  fleeting, 
vanishing  figures,  but  not  for  long.  The  end  is 


232        LIFE  OF   WILLIAM  CTJLLEN  BRYANT. 

certain  and  near.  This  philosophy  of  life  is  a  seri 
ous  one ;  but  it  admits  of  consolation  and  cheerful 
ness.  It  is  dreary  in  Byron;  it  is  awful  in  Ec- 
clesiastes :  but  it  is  neither  in  Bryant."  He  does 
not  close  his  eyes  to  the  sombre  present ;  but  he 
looks  beyond  for  hope.  The  "  unfaltering  trust  " 
that  sustained  him  in  his  bereaved  old  age  finds 
its  fullest  and  grandest  expression  in  the  crowning 
poem  of  his  life,  « The  Flood  of  Years."  He 
meditates  sadly  on  the  sullen  stream  that  bears  our . 
lives  away ;  but,  beyond  the  dismal  barrier  that  lies 
where  the  life  to  come  touches  the  life  that  is, 
there  is  a  place  where  wounded  hearts  are  healed 

forever. 

"  In  the  room 

Of  this  grief -shadowed  present  there  shall  be 
A  Present  in  whose  reign  no  grief  shall  gnaw 
The  heart,  and  never  shall  a  tender  tie 
Be  broken ;  in  whose  reign  the  eternal  Change, 
That  waits  on  growth  and  action,  shall  proceed 
With  everlasting  Concord  hand  in  hand." 

Life  is  too  noisy  for  such  a  poet  to  be  heard  by 
the  crowd.  Bryant  never  was  heard  by  it.  His 
early  fame,  based  on  a  youthful  achievement,  a 
few  selections  from  his  poems  in  the  school-readers, 
and  an  unusual  length  and  dignity  of  life,  have 
kept  his  name  before  the  people  until  its  very 
mention  inspires  a  kind  of  reverence.  But,  in  truth, 
his  works  have  not  had  a  circulation  like  those  of 


THE   POET.  233 

Longfellow  and  Whittier,  —  the  inmates  of  almost 
every  American  home  where  literature  is  prized. 
Thousands  of  well-educated  persons  among  his 
countrymen  cannot  name  a  dozen  of  his  poems. 
This  is  easily  accounted  for.  He  has  few  poems 
of  sufficient  length  for  publication  in  separate  vol 
umes,  thus  challenging  the  public  curiosity.  He 
has  told  no  story  that  the  ordinary  reader  feels 
that  he  must  know,  in  order  to  be  abreast  of  the 
literary  world.  He  has  written  little  that  affords 
topics  of  conversation.  Men  criticise  a  story, — 
its  plot,  its  scenes,  its  characters.  The  names  of  its 
heroes  and  heroines  are  passed  about  from  lip  to 
lip,  and  curiosity  is  piqued  to  know  who  and  what 
they  are.  Wit  affords  quotable  passages,  conceits 
are  nuts  to  crack,  quiddities  of  diction  pass  into 
the  verbal  circulation,  satires  provoke  discussion; 
but  all  these  are  excluded  from  Bryant's  works  by 
his  conception  of  poetry.  As  for  "the  gentler 
emotions "  which  he  aims  to  awaken,  they  are 
crowded  out  by  the  money-clinking,  weapon-clash 
ing,  and  horn-blowing  of  a  busy  people.  There  is 
nothing  in  Bryant's  poetry  that  compels  attention. 
It  is  like  the  charms  of  Nature  that  it  noiselessly 
unveils.  The  cheering  sunshine,  the  fragrance  of 
flowers,  the  songs  of  birds,  the  whispering  of 
winds,  the  blue  depths  of  heaven,  are  all  unheeded 
by  the  eager  merchant,  the  breathless  lawyer,  and 
the  plotting  politician ;  but  they  are  balm  and  in- 


234         LIFE   OF   WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

cense  and  music  and  conversation  to  the  toil-worn 
man  when  lie  steps  forth  free  "from  the  thraldom 
of  his  cares.  It  is  to  man  in  his  higher  and  ge 
neric  humanity  that  Bryant  speaks.  His  audience 
will  be  small  while  the  cheap  Johns  are  shouting 
in  the  streets ;  but  his  voice  will  never  fall  upon 
the  empty  air  without  an  auditor.  As  a  brother 
bard  has  sung  of  "  The  Dead  Master,"  — 

"  Who  loves  and  lives  with  Nature  tolerates 
Baseness  in  nothing  :  high  and  solemn  thoughts 
Are  his,  — clean  deeds,  and  honorable  life. 
If  he  be  poet,  as  our  Master  was, 
His  song  will  be  a  mighty  argument, 
Heroic  in  its  structure  to  support 
The  weight  of  the  world  forever !     All  great  things 
Are  native  to  it,  as  the  sun  to  heaven. 
Such  was  thy  song,  O  Master !  and  such  fame 
As  only  kings  of  thought  receive  is  thine  : 
Be  happy  with  it  in  thy  larger  life 
Where  Time  is  not,  and  the  sad  word  —  Farewell !  " 


INDEX   OF  NAMES. 


NOTE.  —The  following  Index  contains  every  name  of  a  book,  a  poem,  or 
a  person,  mentioned  in  this  volume,  with  a  reference  to  every  page  where  the 
name  occurs. 


AFTER  a  Tempest,  60,  199. 

Ages,  The,  47,  57,  GO,  63. 

Alden,  John,  19. 

American  Poetry,  Bryant's  arti 
cle  on,  56. 

Among  the  Trees,  199. 

Anderson,  Henry  J.,  61,  66,  67. 

Andrews  the  publisher,  76. 

Anne,  Queen,  20,  30. 

Antiquity  of  Freedom,  209,  210, 
211. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  226,  228. 

Astor,  John  Jacob,  64. 

Autumn  Woods,  60,  212. 

BANCROFT,  George,  68, 141. 
Barlow,  Joel,  185. 
Bartlett,  W.  O.,  180. 
Bathos,  Treatise  on,  71. 
Battle  of  the  Kegs,  The,  184. 
Baylies,  the  Hon.  William,  51. 
Bellows,  the   Rev.   Dr.   Henry 

W.,  135,  167. 
Bigelow,   the  Hon.   John,  173, 

180. 
Blessed  are  They  that  Mourn, 

216. 
Boswell,  James,  64, 181. 


Bowles,  William  L.,  111. 
Broome,  William,  151. 
Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B.,  162. 
Browning,  Robert,  162. 
Bryant  Homestead  Book,  The, 

45,  186. 
Bryant,  Miss  Julia,  119, 121,  122, 

123. 
Bryant,  Dr.  Peter,  19,  20,  21,  22, 

30,  32,  38,  47. 
Bryant,  Stephen,  19. 
Burial  of  Love,  The,  223. 
Burns,  Robert,  105, 106. 
Butler,  Samuel,  185. 
Byron,  Lord,  49,  57, 103, 193, 232. 

CALDEROX,  Mr.,  128. 
Calhoun,  John  C.,  18. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  57,  69,  111, 

185. 

Castelar,  Emilio,  130. 
Cedarmere,  116, 117, 118, 119, 120. 
Channing,  Edward  Tyrrel,  46. 
Chapman,  George,  227. 
Chatterton,  Thomas,  31. 
Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  186. 
Clay,  Henry,  18. 
Cloud,  The,  199. 

235 


236 


INDEX  OF  NAMES. 


Cobden,  Richard,  106. 
Cole,  Thomas,  85,  86,  118, 123. 
Coleman,  William,  67,  72. 
Coleridge,  Samuel  T.,  49,  64. 
Columbiad,  Barlow's,  185. 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  Dwight's, 

185. 

Contented  Ploughman,  The,  38. 
Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  60,  65, 

66,  125. 

Cooper,  Peter,  163. 
Cowley,  Abraham,  31,  32,  186. 
Cowper,   William,  39,  57,    100, 

146,  186,  227. 

Croaker  Pieces,  The,  69. 
Cullen,  Dr.  William,  22. 
Culprit  Fay,  Drake's,  186. 
Cumberland,  Richard,  187. 
Curtis,  George  William,  125, 179. 

DAXA,  Richard  H.,  46,  47,  56,  68, 

186,  195. 
Dante,  164. 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  187. 
Death  of  the  Flowers,  The,  202. 
Death  of  Schiller,  The,  98. 
Denham,  Sir  John,  187. 
Dickens,  Charles,  18. 
Dodge,  Mr.,  128. 
Drake,  Joseph  Rodman,  69,  186. 
Dryden,  John,  186. 
Durand,  Asher  Brown,  66,  118. 
Durfee,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  41. 
Dwight,  Timothy,  185. 
Dyer,  John,  187. 

EAST  LAKE,  Sir  Charles,  102. 
Ebb-Tide,  Southey's,  52. 
Ecclesiastes,  232. 
Edgeworth,  Miss,  39. 


Elegy,  Gray's,  63. 
Embargo,  The,  35,  36,  37,  38. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  18,  86. 
Evening  Reverie,  98. 
Evening  Wind,  199. 
Everett,  Edward,  102. 

FALRCHILD,  Miss  Fanny,  54,  55, 

56,  166. 

Fairie  Queene,  Spenser's,  190. 
Fanny,  Halleck's,  63. 
Fenton,  Elijah,  151. 
Ferdinand,  King  of  Spain,  128, 

133. 

Firmament,  The,  199. 
Fletcher,  Andrew,  92. 
Flood  of  Years,  69,  197,  199, 232. 
Forest  Hymn,  A,  60. 
Fountain,  The,  98. 
Fourth-of-July  Odes,  42,  43,  44. 
Fox,  William  J.,  106. 
Francis,  Dr.  J.  W.,  72. 
Frederick  the  Great,  49. 
Fremont,  John  C.,  174. 
Freneau,  Philip,  184. 
Fringed  Gentian,  The,  23,  199. 
Future  Life,  The,  56, 198. 

GENEVIEVE,  55. 
Genius  of  Columbia,  42. 
Glover,  Richard,  187. 
Godwin,  Parke,  96,  180. 
Godwin,  Mrs.  Parke,  107, 119. 
Goethe,  49. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  100. 
Gorgey,  Arthur,  113,  124. 
Gourlie,  the  artist,  118. 
Grant,  General  U.  S.,  174. 
Gray,  Thomas,  63. 
Greeley,  Horace,  174. 


INDEX  OF  NAMES. 


237 


Green-Mountain  Boys,  The,  98. 
Green  River,  53. 

HAD  AD,  Hillhouse's,  65. 

Halleck,  Fitz-Greene,  32,  59,  60, 
63,  64,  65,  66,  68,  69,  140,  186. 

Hallock,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  38,  41. 

Happy  Temperament,  The,  arti 
cle  on,  56. 

Harvey,  Jacob,  66. 

Hasty  Pudding,  Barlow's,  185. 

Haydon,  Benjamin  R.,  103,  104. 

Herbert,  Francis,  Esq.,  72. 

Hillhouse,  James  A.,  65. 

Holland,  Mr.,  95,  96. 

Homer,  131,  146,  150,  151,  157, 
159,  185,  225,  226,  227,  228,  229. 

Hopkinson,  Francis,  184. 

Horace,  translation  from,  38. 

Houghton,  Lord,  102. 

Howe,  Judge  Samuel,  51. 

Hudibras,  Butler's,  185. 

Hudson,  Frederic,  69. 

Huntington,  Daniel,  118. 

Hurricane,  The,  199. 

Hymn  to  Death,  32,  216. 

ILIAD,  The,  150, 157,  228. 
Indian  at  the  Burial-place  of  his 

Fathers,  An,  219. 
Indian  Girl's  Lament,  The,  59, 

219. 

Indian  Story,  An,  59,  209. 
Ingraham,  the  artist,  118. 
Inman,  Henry,  118. 
Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to 

a  "Wood,  24. 

Invitation  to  the  Country,  122. 
Irving,  Washington,  40,  74,  75, 

76,  77,  78, 140. 


JACKSON,  Andrew,  69,  174. 
Jarvis,  the  artist,  66. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  18,  34,  36. 
Job,  translation  from  the  Book 

of,  31. 

Jonson,  Ben,  186.      - 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  141,  181. 
June,  167, 199. 

KENT,  Chancellor,  66. 
King,  Dr.  Charles,  66. 
Knowledge  of  Nature,  Mrs. 

Trimmer's,  39. 
Kossuth,  Louis,  113,  123. 

LADY   OF   THE  LAKE,    Scott's, 

105. 

Lamb,  Charles,  71. 
Land  of  Dreams,  223. 
Lee,  Nat,  71. 
Leggett,  William,  73,  78,  80,  90, 

91,  92,  93,  98. 
Letters  from  Palmyra,  Ware's, 

134. 
Letters  from  Spain  and  other 

Countries,  138. 
Letters  of  a  Traveller,  98,  100, 

114. 

Leupp,  Charles  M.,  100. 
Lewis,  Charlton  T.,  150. 
Library  of  Poetry  and  Song, 

The,  147. 
Life,  98. 

Life  that  Is,  The,  56. 
Lifetime,  A,  145. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  141,  174. 
Little  Jack,  39. 
Little  People  of  the  Snow,  220, 

222. 
Livingston,  Chancellor,  72. 


238 


INDEX   OF   NAMES. 


Longfellow,  Henry  W.,  18,  99, 

197,  233. 

Louis  Philippe,  17. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  99. 

MACAULAY,  T.  B.,  18,  65,  196. 
M'Fingal,  Trumbull's,  185. 
March,  60,  199. 

Marco  Bozzaris,  Halleck's,  63. 
Massacre  at  Scio,  The,  59. 
May  Sun  sheds  an  Amber  Light, 

The,  224. 

Mazzini,  Giuseppe,  164. 
McCown,  Chancellor,  107. 
Meditation    on    Rhode  -  Island 

Coal,  220. 

Milnes,  Richard  Monckton,  102. 
Milton,  John,  32,  185,  186,  192. 
Miscellanies,  Bryant's,  72. 
Monument  Mountain,  59,  219. 
Moore,  Thomas,  102,  111. 
Morris,  William,  162.- 
Morse,  Samuel  F.  B.,  66, 70, 118, 

162. 

Mosquito,  The,  220. 
Murray,  John,  75,  76. 

NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE,  17,  34, 

36,  42,  44,  72. 
Napoleon,  Louis,  17. 
Newman,  Dr.  J.  H.,  227. 
New  Robinson  Crusoe,  The,  39. 
New  Roof,   The,   Hopkinsou's, 

184. 

Nicholas,  Mrs.,  61. 
No  Man  knoweth  his  Sepulchre, 

216. 

Not  Yet,  224. 
November,  199. 
Numa  Pompilius,  195. 


OCTOBER,  199. 

October,  1866,  56. 

Odyssey,  The,  146,  151, 153, 157. 

Osgood,  J.  R.,  &  Co.,  150. 

Osgood,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel, 

50,  155,  158. 

Our  Country's  Call,  224. 
Our  Fellow-Worshippers,  218. 

PAST,  The,  199. 
Paulding,  James  K.,  73. 
Percival,  James  Gates,  60,  66, 

186. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak,  Scott's,  102. 
Picturesque  America,  147. 
Pierce,  Franklin,  174. 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  39. 
Pirate,  Scott's,  112. 
Planting  of  the  Apple-Tree,  199. 
Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  31,  99,  106, 

189. 

Poems  for  Children,  Watts's,  39. 
Poet,  The,  193. 
Pope,  Alexander,  30,  31,  32,'  33, 

57,  71,  151,  191,  227,  229,  230. 
Popular  History  of  the  United 

States,  The,  147,  153. 
Powers,  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  N.,  52. 
Powers,  Hiram,  103. 
Prairies,  The,  199. 
Presentiment,  A,  98. 
Putnam,  G.  P.,  114. 

QUARLL,  Philip,  39. 

RAIN-DREAM,  A,  199. 
Return  of  the  Birds,  The,  199. 
Return  of  Youth,  The,  199. 
Reward  of  Literary  Merit,  The, 


INDEX   OF   NAMES. 


239 


Rivulet,  The,  24,  60, 
Eobert  of  Lincoln,  159,  220. 
Robinson  Crusoe,  39. 
Rob  Roy,  Scott's,  105. 
Rogers,  Samuel,  77,  102,  111. 
Rossetti,  D.  G.,  162,  193. 

SALMAGUNDI,  living's,  40. 
Sandford  and  Merton,  39. 
Sands,  Robert  C.,  66,  72,  73. 
Schiller,  49,  139. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  57,  102,  184. 
Sedgwick,   Miss   Catherine,  54, 

60,  73. 
Sedgwick,  Henry  D.,  60,  61,  65, 

66. 

Sella,  220. 
Seventy-Six,  208. 
Sewall,  Mr.,  54. 
Shakespeare,  186. 
Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe,  49. 
Snell,  Ebenezer,  25. 
Snell,  Sarah,  19,  21. 
Snell,    the   Rev.   Dr.   Thomas, 

38. 

Snelling,  W.  J.,  79,  80. 
Snow-Shower,  The,  199,  205. 
Song  of  Marion's  Men,  The,  76. 
Song    of    the    Greek    Amazon, 

The,  59. 

Song  of  Pitcairn's  Island,  A,  219. 
Song  of  the  Stars,  The,  60. 
Sotheby,  William,  227. 
Southey,  Robert,  45,  52,  111,  186. 
Spanish  Revolution,  The,  38. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  186. 
Sprague,  Charles,  186. 
Spring  in  Town,  220. 
Standish,  Miles,  19. 
Stedman,  E.  C.,  220,  227. 


Stoddard,  R.  H.,  55,  57,  220,  231, 

234. 

Summer  Ramble,  A,  200. 
Summer  Wind,  60,  199,  201. 
Swinburne,  A.  C.,  162,  193. 
Swiss  Family  Robinson,  The,  39. 

TALES  of  the  Glauber  Spa,  73. 

Talisman,  The,  72,  73. 

Tarn  O'Shanter,  106. 

Tasso,  31. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  83. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  18. 

Thanatopsis,  45,  47,  48,  49,  51, 

52,  56,  61, 109, 146, 157, 159, 186, 

214.  , 

Thomson,  James,  186,  231. 
Tides,  The,  199. 
Tiffany  &  Co.,  156. 
To  a  Cloud,  60. 
To  a  Mosquito,  220. 
To  a  Waterfowl,  52,  56.  — See 

Waterfowl. 
Translations,  224. 
Trisyllabic  Feet,  article  on,  56. 
Trumbull,  John,  185. 
Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  103,  104. 
Twain,  Mark,  83. 

VAN  BUREN,  Martin,  93. 
Verbruyck,  the  artist,  118. 
Verplanck,  G.  C.,  60,  61,  62,  63, 
60,  72,  74,  140. 

WALLER,  Edmund,  136. 
Ware,  the  Rev.  William,  134. 
Waterfowl,  The,  61.  —  See  To  a 

Waterfowl. 

Waterston,  the  Rev.  R.  C.,  134. 
Watts,  Isaac,  39. 


240 


INDEX   OF   NAMES. 


"Webster,  Daniel,  18. 
Weir,  Robert  Walter,  118. 
West  Wind,  The,  199. 
Whipple,  E.  P.,  220. 
Whitehouse,  James,  156. 
White,  Kirke,  45,  186. 
Whittier,  J.  G.,  197,  233. 
Wiley,  John,  66. 
Wilson,  General  James  Grant, 

165,  166. 
Wilson,  John,  79. 


Wind  and  the  Stream,  The,  206. 
Winds,  The,  98. 
Winter  Piece,  A,  204. 
Wordsworth,  William,  49,   50, 

111,  192,  195, 196. 
Wright,  Mr.,  227. 

YELLOW  VIOLET,  The,  24, 198. 
Young,  Dr.  Edward,  100,  186. 

ZACHOS,  John  C.,  163,  164. 


Stereotyped  by  Rand,  Awry,  &  Co.,  JBoston. 


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